


Safe Word

by Filthycasual, owlettica



Series: The Dick -n- The Ass [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Aggressive grabbing, Alienation, All Is Fair in Love and War, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anger, Angry Zsasz, Angst, Avoidance, Baby Bat, Blackmail, Blood, Blow Jobs, Boners, Break Up, Breaking and Entering, Broken Bones, Capture, Chases, Chasing, Childhood Memories, Comfort, Confessions, Confrontations, Contention, Cunnilingus, Cutting, Dark Imagery, Death, Despair, Desperation, Devious Plots, Disappointing Blow Job, Dominance, Dreams and Nightmares, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ethnic Slur, Exhibitionism, F/M, Failed Rescue, Fanart, Fantasy, Fear, Flirting, Frottage, GorZsasz - Freeform, Gossiping Zsaszettes, Gotham AU, Gotham fanart, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Gun Violence, Guns, Headbutting, Heartache, Heartbreak, Heterosexual Sex, Hitting, Hunting, Illustrated, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Intimidation, Jealousy, Jisz - Freeform, Kidnapping, Killing, Kinbaku, Loneliness, Loss, Love, Lowjacking, M/M, Marijuana, Melancholy, Memories, Mental Anguish, Motorcycle Chase, Motorcycles, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Sexual Touching, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Violence, Pain, Past secrets, Penguin’s Army, Penguin’s a sh!t boss & needs to work on his leadership skills, Pining, Prostitution, Proto Batman, Punching, Rage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rebound, Regret, Relief, Repressed Memories, Rescue Attempt, Restraints, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Revenge, Rivalry, Running, Sedation, Self-Harm, Shame, Shock, Shooting, Sorrow, Stalking, Stress, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Suggestive Themes, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Surveillance, Taunting, Temptation, Those Three Little Words, Threats, Threats of Violence, Threesome - F/F/M, Torture, Tough day at the office, Unwanted erections, Vendettas, Vigilantism, Violence, Violent Thoughts, Voyeurism, Zsasz Loses His Sh!t, Zsasz is a taunting asshole, aching, apprehension, binding, blowing stuff up, chapter 12 is none-too-pleasant and possibly triggering for some, comeuppance, containment, dismembered body parts, forceful grabbing, freezewald, gagging, getaway, ghosting, gloom, good guy doing bad things, house arrest, influence, lament, locked-up, messages, non-consensual stripping, painful memories, painful reunions, proceed at your own risk, puke, spitting, too late, turnabout, unexpected encounters, violent fighting, warnings, zsaszdon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-03 06:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 140,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16320833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthycasual/pseuds/Filthycasual, https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlettica/pseuds/owlettica
Summary: Jim Gordon and Victor Zsasz find themselves changed in unexpected ways after their whirlwind affair. As both men struggle to move forward, they face consequences that not only impact their careers, but what they must do to survive.This fic takes right before s4, immediately following the events of “Boxcutter” and “The Problem With Captain Bullock”.





	1. Road to Perdition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Zsasz return to Gotham to find the people in their personal and professional lives acting differently towards them. Victor questions his relationship status with Jim.

 

 

—>j<—

Jim returns to Gotham. The gloomy city is cold and gray against the backdrop of dark clouds that never seem to clear. The oncoming fall season brings unrelenting showers that turn the city into a monochromatic landscape, dull and devoid of warmth.

He arrives at his apartment around four in the afternoon. He has been sitting in his parked car for ten minutes now, working through his thoughts. Throughout the whole drive back from his mother’s, his mind wrestled over sending Victor a message.

His thoughts now linger on moving somewhere closer to the precinct.

_Hell, I’ve lived at work before; why not just have my stuff there? Just need some clothes and bath items. If I need to sleep, I can find a motel. I should keep moving around in case Victor looks for me._

Jim can feel his throat seize up; the awful feeling of guilt seeps and settles deep inside his chest. He feels like a coward, unable to confront the one person whom he cares for deeply and give him the dignity of closure.

_One of us had to let go, for both our sakes._

His mind screams back.

_Then tell him! Call him and tell him that it’s over._

Jim knows deep down he can’t bring himself to say those words to Victor; _it’s over_. If those words somehow escaped his mouth, Victor would insist they could make it work. He would keep inserting himself into Jim’s life, making it impossible to stick to his guns.

_Coward._

Jim knows he is forever bound to the assassin, a deep link beyond the physical. He needs Victor; he craves him and only _him_. Their attachment caught them _both_ off guard, unable to see past their attraction to the reality at hand. Still, Jim was happiest with him.

A memory pops into his head of Victor’s smile while basking in a post-sex embrace in the motel shower. Victor’s smiles were different when they were alone; they were genuine. He even looked at Jim differently; there was a light in those impossibly dark eyes that seemed to shine _just for him_.

_What would become of us when things start falling apart? What then? I told him in the beginning, in that garage, how I felt about all this. He shrugged it off._

Jim ends his mental torture and exits his car. He retrieves his suitcase from the trunk and marches straight up the stairs. He walks into his dark and lonely apartment. He looks around; he never noticed how lifeless the space was till now. His eyes scan his meager possessions that barely fill the living room. He was never one for keeping much in the way of personal effects and momentos. His life was devoted to his career and nothing else.

_That’s probably why I fail so miserably with relationships. I give the people in my life nothing to hold on to._

He walks over to the bookshelf and examines the few pictures he managed to keep. A picture of military brethren stationed in the deserts of Afghanistan. The photo sits in a large glass frame along with a couple of keepsakes from his time in service.

His eyes roam to a picture of him and his father; he was just a kid in the photo. His father knew how to stick to his principles; Jim always respected that the most. Peter Gordon was a beacon of hard work, impeccable ethics and impartial judgement, everything Jim strives to maintain in his own life.

_Have I fallen so far?_

Jim can almost hear his father respond.

_“Just get back up. You may fall a lot, but one day you will find your balance.”_

Those past words of fatherly advice still echo in Jim’s mind from time to time. His voice and inflection still crystal clear in Jim’s memory as though his father just spoke a moment ago. That was one of the things that stuck with Jim the most about his father; he championed the virtues of overcoming failure and fear.

Jim grabs the old photo out of the picture frame, stashing it carefully in an outermost compartment of his suitcase to avoid crumpling it. He gives the bookshelf one last look. His eyes fall onto the cellphone he confiscated off Penguin’s guard he killed; he picks it up and opens it. He reads the messages he sent to Victor when they first got involved with each other.

 

_“Turf wars are getting bad out there…_

_...Heads up.”_

_“thx_

_so nice of you to look out for me   : )_

_btw you don’t have to pay for anymore taxi_ _s”_

_“Do you want t…”_

_“do i want to what?”_

_“Jim?”_

 

He stares at the screen for a couple of moments before snapping the phone shut. He places the device back on the shelf. He remembers the first time he and Victor kissed each other on that rooftop. Even now, Jim can _still_ feel his arms around him, holding him close. Those hungry lips of Victor’s pressed hard against his own, a long tongue pinning his down as it wiggled and had its way with him. He remembers how hot he got when Victor’s arms wrapped tighter, his mouth hungry. His senses drowning in the way the Victor tasted, sounded, and smelled.

 _Oh, how I struggled to escape that strong embrace_.

Jim smiles sadly.

After that moment, he fought Victor, doing what he could to deny the strong attraction between them.

_But really. What fight did I have in me to begin with when it came to Victor?_

Jim, powerless and wanting, inevitably surrendered to the persistent assassin. His body aches to feel Victor pressed against him once more. His vision blurs with collecting tears as his chest tightens. He inhales a deep breath and pushes it all down.

Jim heads into his bedroom, retrieving work clothes and street wear. Once packed, he wanders to the kitchen with the two small suitcases in tow. He opens the fridge to retrieve a beer; it’s still packed with the food Victor brought the night he appeared on his doorstep.

Victor seemed like a vision in his kitchen that night, a wonderful dream deployed by the effects of the narcotics he was under. Victor was attentive, tender, and accommodating. He made himself forget the truth about the kind of man Victor truly is— _a remorseless killer_.

A realization hits Jim; not once did he ever stop and wonder how many of those tally marks were innocent people Victor has killed. Families of the men and women who wronged Falcone or Oswald, _or whoever_ , dispatched by the same man he’s romanticizing. The same man he finds himself weeping for.

Jim slams the fridge door closed. He quickly exits his apartment, unable to tolerate the drab walls and the memories within another minute.

He stashes the suitcases in the trunk of his sedan and pauses. He glances at his bike.

_I’ll find a garage I can park that at later tonight._

Jim arrives at the GCPD building. He rolls his two small suitcases in with him and into the locker room. He meticulously places all of his clothing and personal hygiene care into his assigned locker. He takes out the picture of him and his father; he sticks it to the inside of the metal door with a magnet stowed there.

He realizes his personal weapons are still at his apartment. He makes a mental note to return in the morning with the sedan to retrieve them.

Jim decides to shower before going on shift; he grabs a towel and shower shoes. In the personal stall, he places his work clothes on a hook and quickly undresses. In his haste, he brushes against the bandage that protects the four cuts Victor sliced into him. Jim removes the bandage in one clean swipe, hissing ever so slightly at the sting. The tally marks throb and complain as he continues to peel his pants off.

He starts the shower and stands in the stream; his hand reaches down to lightly finger where Victor marked him. The ones on his back ache, but not as badly as the marks on his thigh. He can feel his chest tighten as his fingers slowly caress each inflamed wound. He can still see Victor’s face and how possessed he was by the action, flesh giving way to the boxcutter. It was an act signifying a deep and personal connection of belonging to _—him._

Jim thinks about the boxcutter he stole from Victor, the one the assassin holds sacred. It lays securely in his locker nestled in his jacket. He clears his thoughts and quickly showers.

Once dressed, he heads straight to Harvey’s office but he finds it dark and locked. Detective Alvarez calls out from the bullpen.

“Hey, Detective Gordon, welcome back! Looking for Captain Bullock?”

Jim turns around and nods.

“He hasn’t been in the last couple of days. I think he took some time off.”

“Oh, okay. Any chance you know when he’s coming back?”

Alvarez shakes his head.

“Nah, he didn’t even mention he was going to be gone in the first place. I’m glad you’re back because I had to handle things in his absence. I now know why he cusses like he does.”

Alvarez offers a sly grin and wink as he returns to his desk. Jim grins and shakes his head. He returns to his own desk to go through his hefty workload of unsolved cases from last week.

After midnight, Jim decides to call it an evening. He wants to track down Harvey to discuss what Oswald might be up to. Jim is also a bit perturbed that Harvey never called him about taking time from work. The captain always kept him in the loop of his whereabouts; but then again, Harvey has been avoiding him for the last few weeks.

Jim heads to Bernardo’s first to see if Harvey’s car is there before heading to the man’s apartment. He’s in luck; Jim quickly parks and hustles into the bar. Sasha, Bernardo’s eldest daughter, smiles warily and waves Jim over to the bar.

“Jim, Harvey’s been here all day. He’s a bit smashed. I stopped serving him a couple of hours ago, but he isn’t in any condition to walk out of here on his own. I called him a cab.”

Jim nods and walks towards the back. There, at a dark booth, is his best friend, slouched and singing. His body sways in the throes of drunkenness.

Jim scoots into the seat across from Harvey, offering him a tight-lipped smile. The captain acknowledges his presence as he stops singing. His eyes narrow on Jim as he purrs under his breath.

“Well, look who it is.”

“Harv, thought we were going to talk when I came into work today, but you weren’t there. Heard you took some time off.”

Harvey sits up and leans forward. He hiccups a couple of times before responding to Jim.

“Yeah.”

Jim leans both elbows on the table; his face hardens.

“Harv, what’s going on? You’ve been standoffish for the last few weeks and that last phone call sounded as though you had some beef with me. So spill it.”

Harvey leans on his left elbow and tries his best to focus. He raises his left index finger and points it at Jim.

“We both ha-ha-have secrets to keep. Why sh-sh-should I spill _mine_ while you hold onto _yours?_ ”

Jim furrows his brow and assumes Harvey is speaking about the talk they had on the night of his birthday. 

Harvey shakes his head and clenches his jaw tightly. The alcohol is inflaming his anger and muddling his thoughts. He quickly slams his fist onto the table, earning a swift reprimand from Sasha.

“Harvey! Nah-uh!”

Harvey raises his hand and slurs out.

“Sorry, Sash. Ma bad.”

He turns back to Jim and shrugs.

“Yeah, (hiccups) you’re alright. I’m alright. We. Are. _All._ (hiccups)  Alright.”

Sasha hollers over at their booth.

“Hey, your cab’s here!”

Harvey collects his coat and hat. The haze of his buzz lifts ever so slightly, just enough for him to feel the dull ache in his chest that he was trying so hard to numb. In his blissful drunkenness, he vaguely remembers his treacherous action concerning his best friend. He stands and braces himself for just a second. He mutters as he clumsily works his arms through his coat.

“Well, that’s ma cue. Do yourself a favor—drop it. I have.”

Jim wants to stop him, but knows once Harvey is on a bender, it’s best to let him sleep it off. The captain staggers out of the bar and into his cab. Jim had a hunch Harvey knew he was lying that night.

_That can’t be the only thing bugging him though._

Jim rubs his hands down his face, decides to get dinner and perhaps find a place to sleep. He’ll deal with all his loose ends tomorrow.

 

—>z<—

Victor’s return drive back from his weekend with Jim is nowhere near as pleasant as the drive to it was. He spends most of his time staring at the back of Jim’s sedan convinced the time they just spent together was their last if he read Jim’s body language correctly.

Zsasz thinks back on his excitement over uninterrupted alone time with Jim as well as meeting his mother—getting an intimate view of the man he’d come to admire and (much to his surprise) to whom he’d grown so attached. He struggles to understand exactly how Jim managed to become so important to him over the past several weeks, especially given how quickly he loses interest in people after fucking them.

His drive only grows harder after he exits past the motel where he and Jim stopped to fuck on the drive down—where slipped up and called Jim “babe”. It’s just one more painful reminder of how far he let Jim into his life... his head… his _heart(?)._

Victor’s almost relieved when he finally pulls up to the Van Dahl estate. At least he has his work.

Zsasz enters the estate through the service entrance by the kitchen. He’s greeted by the heavenly aroma of something simmering on the stove. He removes his gloves as he strides up to lift the lid.

_Stew. Moroccan maybe?_

Zsasz grabs a bowl and a soup spoon before ladling some out. He sighs appreciatively as he wolfs down the contents. He scrapes the bottom of the bowl and prepares to fix himself a second helping when someone clears their throat.

He looks up to find Olga in the doorway with her hands on her hips and an annoyed look on her face. She strides up to him, shakes her head and huffs. She grumbles as she takes his bowl and walks it to the sink. When she sets to wash it, he gently but firmly places his hand on her shoulder. He strokes her upper arm and removes the bowl from her hand, pecking her cheek.

“No. You cooked. I’ll clean.”

Olga smiles up at him before sitting at the kitchen table. She watches on as he washes and dries his dishes. Afterwards, he addresses her over a shoulder.

“You want me to make us some tea?”

Her only reply is a smile. He flashes one back before preparing their customary pot of black tea. He grabs the black matte tea canister of Keemun and carefully measures the leaves while the water boils. Zsasz remembers making the same tea for Mrs. Gordon the morning prior and recalls their conversation. It feels like a lifetime ago.

  
_“How long have you and Jim been together? As lovers?”_  
  
_“Uhh… I dunno. Maybe a few weeks now?”_  
_  
_ “ _I_ _suspected_ _he_ _was_ _in_ _love_. _I_ _can_ _see_ _it_ , _the_ _way_ _he_ _looks_ _at_ _you_.”

 

 

Victor blinks when a hand on his forearm brings him to his senses. He suddenly realizes the kettle’s whistling. Olga turns off the boil and removes it from the burner. She turns and looks up at him, her face pinched with concern. He looks down and finds himself absently holding the measuring spoon. He never finished measuring the tea leaves. She pats his forearm.

“ _You_ sit.”

He furrows his brow and presses his lips together, nodding once in agreement. He plops into a chair, assailed by memory after memory of Jim until she returns with the tea service. Even after they begin sipping, he can’t help but think back on his short weekend with Jim, wishing it was still yesterday.

Zsasz looks down at his half empty cup and brings it to his mouth to finish. His brow wrinkles when he finds it bone cold. Just as he begins collecting the service, he feels a hand on his upper arm. Olga leans down and pecks the top of his head.

“You go to work now.”

He puffs out a huge sigh before heading to Penguin’s study. When he arrives, the door’s closed. He briefly knocks as he opens it.

“Boss.”

Victor pokes his head through the door. Fries, Pike and Pepper all standing around Penguin’s desk, deep in serious conversation. The group immediately stops and separates the moment he steps in. Penguin turns and addresses him in that stiff and pinched way he gets sometime.

“Victor. Could you please give us a moment?”

Zsasz shrugs and nods. He shifts his weight and crosses his arms to lean in the doorway. He waits for them to finish, but no one says a word. Penguin clears his throat and clarifies.

“ _Alone_ , Victor. We need a moment _alone_. Please close the door and wait outside. I’ll _send_ for you when I _need_ you.”

Victor crinkles a brow before exiting and closing the door to the study. He waits outside in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and the heel of his boot propped against the wall behind him. Pike and Pepper eventually file out without making eye contact. Ivy does that little huffy thing she does like Penguin when he’s affronted, wrinkling up her nose.

“He’s ready for you now.”

Zsasz arches a brow and strides into the study, ready for his orders. He’s surprised to find Fries standing behind Penguin the way _he_ customarily does. His gaze narrows at the arrangement. The kingpin puffs out his chest with self-importance.

“Victor, as we roll out the Pax Penguina, I want you to concentrate on enforcing compliance. In the meantime, Fries will provide me day to day personal security and attend Mr. Penn’s daily briefings. That will be all for now, Victor.”

Victor conspicuously tilts his head and looks on incredulously.

“And my men?”

“They can continue working in their current capacity. I will notify you if I require any staff changes or alterations to our security needs.”

Victor screws up his face in confusion before nodding and turning to leave. As he does, he can see the corner of Fries’ mouth draw up. If Zsasz didn’t know any better, he’d say the man looked almost _smug_.

—

Victor finally returns home after a busy evening dealing with Pax Penguina non-compliers. At least he was able to get out some of his frustration by breaking some bones and teeth. After striding down their long corridor, his face brightens at the sight of three of The Girls waiting for him in their lounge.

Demaris is wearing a really sexy black cupless latex corset and g-string. Ursula’s in a sheer white teddy and Tasha’s wrapped in that short red silk robe he loves with the embroidered dragon and phoenix. She long gave up replacing the lingerie he either ripped or cut off her. He still fondly remembers one red studded bra, panty and choker set she wore with gartered stockings and _all. those. straps._

_There were so many to slice through._

Tasha smiles as she approaches him and unties her robe. She takes his hand, guides it to her breast and addresses him in her rich, throaty alto.

“Welcome back. We missed you.”

He smiles down at his leathered hand against her umber skin and slowly circles his thumb around her dark nipple. He never tires of how it rises in response, practically _begging_ to be sucked. He reaches an arm around her and nudges her neck, taking a quick nip before kissing her thick, crimson lips.

“Thanks, Tash.”

Ursula and Demaris approach. He removes his hands from Tash and reaches for their necks, drawing them close to kiss. They immediately begin removing his gloves and unbuttoning his shirt and vest as they ask him how his trip was.

Zsasz furrows his brow and crinkles his mouth, his body somewhat stiffening. His gaze casts downward when he suddenly realizes he doesn’t know how to respond.

He blinks and finds Tash studying him. (She’s been with him the longest. If Victor _had_ to pick his best Girl, it’d be her. Xochitl and Astrid were dead even for a close second.) Tasha’s gaze narrows at him as she reaches for the women.

“Hey. I just remembered something _really_ important I need to discuss with Victor. We can do this later. You know the rules.”

They answer in unison.

“Business first.”

Ursula and Demaris try to hide their disappointment. They kiss him once more before returning to their quarters. Tasha closes and ties up her robe, crossing her arms and leaning to one side as she arches a brow.

“You okay?”

He nods curtly in response.

“Yeah.”

She briefly tilts her head towards the women’s quarters.

“You sure? You haven’t spent time with _any_ of us for a few months now. Urs and ‘Maris really miss you.”

She swivels her head back towards him.

“You in the mood for something _different?_ _Somebody_ different? I can call a guy… or a _few_ guys if you want—”

He curtly shakes his head as he frowns and clenches his teeth.

Tasha’s facial muscles pull back. She maintains eye contact with him as she slowly tilts her head, her voice circumspect.

“Victor… Do you need to… _talk?_ ”

“No, Tash. All good.”

She narrows her gaze as she slowly inhales and exhales a deep breath. Her reply is dubious.

“Very well then.”

She walks up to him and briefly fingers the lapels of his jacket. She pecks his lips, gives him a worried look and leaves.

—

Victor heads for his quarters and tosses his garment bag on his bed. He opens it and retrieves the black prayer shawl Mrs. Gordon knitted for his bubbie to store in his black footlocker trunk. It’s where he keeps the things that mean the most to him. He removes his gloves to open it. Zsasz moves aside the gun case containing Tsunade’s old 1911 Colt Commander, revealing a small jewelry box.

Zsasz opens it and peers down at his parents’ wedding bands and father’s old watch as he fingers the bullet that killed Tsunade.

He turns his attention to the three rings Don Falcone had his personal jeweler craft for him. Zsasz was a child when the mafia boss took him in after his parents’ untimely death. His bubbie was unable to care for him at the time, already having her hands full caring for his zayde who’d become very ill.

Victor’s father had longtime personal and professional ties with Falcone. The mob boss knew Zsasz had no other family to care for him and petitioned for legal guardianship after learning what happened to him in foster care.

Not only did Don Falcone act as his guardian, but he also instructed him in matters of business. Throughout the years, the mafia boss commemorated Victor’s hard work and successes with the handcrafted rings. The first one was silver and the second was gold. Don Falcone presented him the final one before leaving Gotham and heading down south. Zsasz runs his thumb along the grooves of the inner engraving of the platinum band before sliding it onto the ring finger of his right hand.

Victor returns the ring to the box, closes it and sets it aside. He reaches for a small chest containing his father’s yarmulke, his mother’s necklace with a Star of David pendant, the mezuzah from his childhood home and his zayde's siddur. He retrieves the black prayer shawl and reverently tucks it in. Victor glances back at the jewelry box and transfers his parents’ wedding bands and father’s watch into the small chest on top of the shawl.

As Zsasz methodically rearranges everything back in its place, the only remaining relic from his childhood falls and rolls to the bottom of the trunk. He picks up the old baseball an older kid gave to him the day he went to live with Don Falcone. The kid’s name was still visible on the ball. Somebody signed it for him.

Victor’s jaw tightens and his face burns as he recalls sitting in the backseat of Falcone’s old Fairlane 500 coupe. Zsasz fought to remain as stoic as possible, trying hard not to cry. An older boy in foster care taught him what happens when you trust people. When you let them in. When you’re _nice_.

He also taught Victor what happens when you show fear. When you’re vulnerable _._ When you’re _weak_.

Victor sat in the backseat of Falcone’s car, watching as the kid slid his mitt through the car window and offered him the ball. He was reluctant to take it because of what the _other_ older boy had done to him, but _this_ kid seemed different. His eyes were… _kind_.

_Kind and blue._

_Like Jim’s._

_Not like that asshole’s._

_I wish I could kill him all over again._

Zsasz shakes off the memory, returns the ball to his footlocker and circles back to his garment bag. He pulls out his clothes, including the shirt and trousers that Mac-n-Cheese ruined at yesterday’s barbecue. He shakes his head as he balls them up and tosses them to the floor. It’s then he notices Jim’s t-shirt he wore the day prior, having forgotten to leave it at his mom’s. Victor rubs his two middle fingers against his lips, staring at it until his eyes drift to his open footlocker. He walks the t-shirt to it and wraps his baseball in it before locking it away.

Victor returns to his bed and reaches for his treasured boxcutter in an outside pocket of his garment bag, expecting the familiar smooth shell—only to feel something completely different. He blinks in confusion before withdrawing it.

Unlike his nondescript silver boxcutter with the retractable blade, the replacement is a folding utility knife. Instead of a smooth casing, it has bumps and foreign grooves. It’s also blue, like his ‘67 Impala.

_Jim musta switched ’em out when I was sleeping._

Victor immediately recalls the events of the night prior, after slicing the nineteenth tally into Jim’s thigh with his boxcutter—the one which (before Jim) he only ever used on himself and _never_ allowed anyone else to touch.

He remembers Jim’s hands on his face.

 _“I’m yours.”_  
  
Victor’s overcome by the pangs in his chest. In the privacy of his quarters, he allows the expressions he previously suppressed to contort his face. Zsasz recalls his whispered reply to Jim, racked with emotion.

 _“Me too.”_  
  
He still feels Jim’s tight embrace and whisper.  
  
_“No matter what...”_  
  
His body aches as he recalls rocking Jim in his arms.  
  
_“I know.”_

When Victor recalls Jim’s teardrop falling to his shoulder, he squeezes his eyes shut and swallows down the lump in his throat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by to read the final installment to our three part series. When we first went into this little venture, we figured it was just going to be something porny, short and steamy. As we kept writing (me being a bratty Jim much to Jess/Zsasz’s chagrin), we found a rich and complicated story unfolding before our eyes with “Boxcutter”. The first fic only surmised the what-ifs of their complicated relationship, we opted to not dive into it at all. We only focused on the the barriers that kept these two from, to put it in simple terms, hooking-up. 
> 
> So that being said, this third fic explores those pesky what-ifs of Jim and Victor’s attachment, the effect on their professional and private lives, not to mention the strain on their feelings for one another.
> 
> At first I thought about writing a Jim-only POV fic. I eventually hooked Jess (GOTCHYA, BITCH lol) into coming back and writing Zsasz for me. Seriously, I would have fucked up how I wrote him. His parts wouldn’t have her special touch. Her attention to details about his world are bar-none THE BEST!!! She told me this is the first time she wrote a back history for the character. Though it’s not prevalent throughout the story, I love the way she interlaces past events with how Victor reacts to stressors. It’s just enough to get a glimpse into his head.
> 
> So if you love heartbreak, angst, violence, with the oh-so-delicate-promise-of-hope, stick around; we have what you are looking for.
> 
> ~FC
> 
>  
> 
> ______
> 
> *blushes like a school girl* FC! STAHP, YOU!
> 
> First off, y’all: I’m a gentile. I wanted to include some personal history for my beloved Zsasz and reference his heritage, hence those family heirlooms. If I got anything wrong, please accept my humblest apologies, then help out a goy and lemme know what I gotta fix—please and thank you, kindly. I mean it. Seriously.
> 
> Oh yeah. This story immediately follows “Boxcutter”, much of our content references that fic. This chapter references events from chapters 7, 9, 16 and 18 through 21 of that fic. Remember Deya/FC’s veiled reference to Harvey’s pain regarding something he did involving Jim? If you haven’t read Deya’s lovely “The Problem With Captain Bullock”, you’re not gonna know what it is. Go check it out. Seriously y’all. It’s an amazing Harvey POV about Jim and Zsasz’s relationship. It’s SO GOOD! *and she wrote it for me ‘cause she’s the BEST FANFIC WIFE EVER!* :3
> 
> For those familiar with canon, we AUed the eff outta this baby, so just be aware. Oh, and beta reader? We had none. “Tag”! You are the proverbial “it”! You’re our beta-readers. Notice any errors requiring our attention? Give us a shout so we can fix ‘em.
> 
> Okay. Now that all that’s outta the way. Ohy! This fic. This chapter! My cold, shriveled, black Zsasz heart is breaking from this pain and angst. JIM! AAAAAHHH!!! 
> 
> Seriously, y’all. I swear to you I had no plans to write any more post-Boxcutter Zsasz stuff. I only planned to support FC with her plans for a post-Boxcutter Jim POV, that’s all. Then Deya shook her lovely fanfic booty at me and told me what she planned. Like Zsasz was unable to resist Jim, I couldn’t resist going at it again with FC, ‘cause oh. my. GOODNESS did she dream up some delicious sh!t. I just had to be part of it. (I swear to you it had nothin’ to do with the fact that, like Zsasz, I’m a wee bit of a slut and just couldn’t resist the temptation of that sweet Deya fanfic drama/Jim Gordon booty.) }8> -o- Jg


	2. Pending Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reliable source informs Jim about the new craze to hit the crime world. Victor overhears his teammates’ growing concerns over his uncharacteristic behavior. Meanwhile, Oswald’s arranges all his chess pieces to deploy his grand scheme on Gotham.

Harvey peels his eyes open and squints at the cold gray light of mid day shining through his windows. He slowly rolls over to grab his phone from the nightstand to see what time it is and if he has any missed messages.

He notices a missed call from Oswald.

Harvey grumbles; he isn’t in the mood to talk to Penguin. He drops the phone on the bed next to him and closes his eyes. His phone starts to ring just as he drifts back to sleep. He paws at the annoying device and flips it open. He croaks out with a gruff.

“What!?”

Oswald bristles as he spits into the phone.

“It would seem that what you said is indeed _true!_ I’m going to keep close watch on Zsasz and if he proves to be a _traitor_ … well. I will handle it!”

Harvey sits up. He doesn’t like the tone with which Oswald is speaking. Fearing that he means he will also handle Jim, he quickly interjects.

“You promised to leave Jim _to me!_ I wanna make sure that hasn’t changed.”

Oswald scoffs and adds with mild annoyance.

“He’s still your problem until he is _my problem!_ I will be getting in touch with you in a few days. I need to address some minor changes to the program and have you distribute the information to the others.”

Penguin ends the call before Harvey can get a word in.

_I’m shocked his weird ass isn’t blowin’ up over Zsasz and Jim. This definitely seems like somethin’ that would make Oswald furious. Maybe he knows he has too much at stake to risk goin’ after either of them. Who fuckin’ knows..._

 

—>z<—

Victor heads down to his basement with one of his large knife rolls under his arm. It’s been a while since he sharpened his blades. He’d been looking forward to some alone time down there. Penguin has kept him working non-stop the past few days since returning to Gotham. Despite Zsasz’s hectic schedule and grueling hours, he can’t stop second-guessing himself, wondering if he misread Jim.

_You’ve been wrong before. Jim didn’t actually say he wanted to break things off._

After opening the door and flipping on the light switch, he turns to his workbench. That’s when the smell hits him.

_Shit. I musta missed something last time I cleaned up in here._

Zsasz maneuvers around the meat hooks suspended from the ceiling to look down at the drain in the middle of the concrete floor, seeing nothing that would warrant the smell. He’s certain he did a thorough job last week when he hosed it off.

He continues searching until he finds a finger he snipped off a particularly mouthy asshole last week. It apparently rolled beneath his chair with the arm and leg restraints.

He puffs with mild annoyance as he picks it up and tosses it into a nearby basin. He’s usually painstakingly meticulous about cleaning up, but with everything going on with Penguin and Jim ( _okay, mostly_ _Jim_ ), he’s been pretty distracted.

He takes another sweep of the room, thoroughly checking the floor for anything else he may have left behind, finding nothing. He turns on the industrial fan and props the door open to circulate the air before taking the thumb to the incinerator. The smell of rot doesn’t really bother him, but sometimes The Girls come down and they don’t have his constitution.

Zsasz walks out into the main area and stops outside the foyer when he overhears a couple of The Girls talking. He hears Astrid first.

“Maybe it’s just all the pressure Penguin’s puttin’ on him with his new club and that licensure thing. What’s it called again?”

He hears Tasha’s low alto.

“Pax Penguina.”  
  
Astrid wryly chuckles.

“Right. _That_. I didn’t think it was possible, but Penguin’s being even _more_ of a pretentious asshole than usual. Honestly, I dunno why Vic keeps working with him.”

Xochitl sarcastically replies.

“Umm… hello! The money! Dude’s gotta _lotta_ enemies and Victor _loves_ his work. _That_ uppity jackass gives him _plenty_ of it and it doesn’t look like Falcone’s _ever_ coming back.”

Astrid counters, her voice concerned.

“I’m _telling_ you, something’s _up_. Something’s _really_ _bothering_ him. _A lot_. I’ve never seen him like this. _You_ were with him back when Tsunade was still around. Has he _ever_ gone this long without wanting sex?”

Xochitl fires back.

“Hey, don’t ask me! All _you_ fuck him. _I don’t!_ But I’m not complaining! ‘Cause the less he bangs Urs and ‘Maris, the more time they spend with _me!_ ”

Victor hears a slap.

“Xochitl! I’m trying to be serious here.”

“I am too! Have you ever taken the time to _really_ appreciate Demaris’ ass? Or the rack on Ursula?” The woman wolf whistles. “If ya did, you’d understand why I’m _glad_ he isn’t fucking ‘em like he used to!”

Astrid sucks her teeth.

“Tasha, you’re being _really_ quiet—even for _you_.”

The woman responds soberly.

“He had a tough time after Tsunade. It took him awhile. Besides, we all know he goes through phases. Just give him some time.”

Astrid’s replies with genuine concern.

“I _know_ he does, but we’re talking about a few _months_ now.”

Xoch mockingly wisecracks.

“Yeah, Astrid! Don’t worry! You’ll be sittin’ on Zsasz’s face again in _no_ time! But, hey. If you’re gettin’ really _lonely…_ or _impatient…_ I’d be _happy_ to let you sit on mine.”

Xochitl suggestively clucks before the woman volleys back.

“Look, all I know is he hasn’t been the same since we tailed that last mark for Penguin. Remember how he acted at Scarlet’s? He actually _approached_ the guy! That’s around the same time he stopped comin’ around sniffin’ for ass. Oh, and _another_ thing. Call me crazy, but did _anyone else_ notice how much that hustler in the white t-shirt looked _just like_ the mark—only _younger?_ ”

Xochitl finally gets serious.

“Alright. I’ll give you that. Ya gotta point. But he’s a _cop_. And not just _any_ cop. _That_ motherfucker’s kicked _Zsasz’s ass_ a couple of times and has gotta _set_ on him. He ain’t the _least_ _bit_ scared of Penguin! Look, I know Vic _loves_ stickin’ his dick wherever he can, but ya’d _think_ he’d be smart enough to keep it outta Jim Gordon—even if he _is_ the ultimate trophy fuck! Shit. _Even I admit_ the guy’s pretty fine. _Especially_ if you’re into that whole buttoned-up and uptight kinda thing.”

Astrid pipes up.

“C’mon Tash. We all know Victor would _totally_ get off on doing Gordon. If it _is_ true, it’s a damn good thing he’s not the type to get attached because, _seriously_. Talk about a disaster waiting to happen.”

Victor clenches his teeth and returns to his basement. After he leaves, Tasha’s reply is ponderous.

“Look. Just keep an eye on him… and tell me if he starts drinking.”

“Wait. _What?_ Vic doesn’t drink!”

Xochitl puffs out a worried sigh.

“Oh, shit. Right. Yeah, okay.”

“Just let me know, okay? And _this_ stays between the _three_ of us.”

 

—>j<—

Three nights after returning to Gotham:

Jim is dressed in his street clothes and heading to the south side of Gotham on the outskirts of The Narrows. He’s heading to a bar, a secret bounty hunter gathering spot. He’s looking for a man he has done business with in the past. Jim knows the man frequents the small watering hole on a nightly basis. This bounty hunter has an army of contacts all over Gotham and is usually the first in _the know_ when there are new developments in the city.

Jim parks his motorcycle with the others that line a parking lot half a block from his destination. The small two-story brownstone sits next to a train track. To the common passerby, the building would appear abandoned; there are no windows or light fixtures on the outside. Other than a couple of nondescript doors, the building is sealed up tight.

There is a reason for the less than welcoming exterior; the bar is a members only club. New people must be invited and trusted before they’re allowed to join. Jim served his time as a bounty hunter with a great reputation. He earned his membership and hopes it’s still in good standing.

Jim approaches the small backdoor and is quickly met by two large guards. He states a code name given to him.

“Swift Hand.”

The code name Swift Hand, is the bounty hunter name bestowed upon him by the owner of the bar. Jim disarmed him in a match that ended in less than five minutes. The old man had a powerful right hook. Though Jim was the winner in the membership bout, he walked away feeling like a loser. He felt every punch for the next couple of weeks. The old man, Mean Jean, walked away like it was nothing as blood poured from his broken nose.

One guard brings a radio to his mouth and utters the code name. After ten long seconds, a woman’s voice states.

“Member.”

The other guard opens the door, allowing Jim access. The place is crowded, as always. Men and women gather in clusters drinking and bragging of their latest conquests. These hunters and mercenaries work outside of the law, as well as _with it_. The parallels aren’t lost on Jim. It’s the reason he excelled so well as a bounty hunter.

He takes a look around the smoky room; he notices eyes on him every now and then. There could be Penguin spies all about, but Jim knows Headhunter is a man who loves to remain untethered. He serves no boss.

Jim approaches the bar and orders a beer. He takes a moment to look around to see if he can spot Headhunter; he usually comes to the bar around midnight. It’s not quite the hour yet.

A tall man in his sixties built of solid muscle struts over to Jim; it’s Mean Jean.

“Swift Hand!”

The old man comes in and shakes Jim’s hand, his grip like a vice. It jostles his arm and the rest of his body. Jim almost falls out of his barstool. Mean Jean then fakes like he’s going to punch him. Jim puts up his dukes and smirks.

“Mean Jean, still a formidable force I see.”

“And _still_ a handsome devil. So, Swift, why are you here? I heard you went back to the GCPD.”

Jim chugs a few swallows of his beer and replies.

“I have. I didn’t come here as a GCPD detective. I came here looking for Headhunter. Is he around?”

Mean Jean aims a thumb over his shoulder towards a back room.

“He’s playing poker with a few of my boys. Once the match is over, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thanks.”

Jim relaxes at the bar; he’s on his second beer when he feels a hand clasp his shoulder.

“Swift! Long time no see!”

Jim turns and grins at the man in all black leather. His hair is in a small tight mohawk and dyed white. He’s wearing a studded eyepatch tonight along with the usual harnesses holstering various weapons attached to his legs, chest and back. He has a warm open smile; his teeth shine like white pearls against his ebony skin.

“Headhunter, it’s good to see you again.”

The man sits next to him at the bar and remarks.

“I can’t stay long. What do you need of me?”

“Information. Specifically on what Penguin…”

Headhunter holds up a hand to silence Jim from continuing. He leans in and mischievously states.

“You want information on _Pax Penguina?_ ”

Jim brow furrows then quickly asks.

“What is it?”

Headhunter smiles and shakes his head. He sucks his teeth and purses his lips, looking Jim up and down. He then smirks and asks.

“You want to commit a crime, Swift? Looking to get one of them _‘Get Out of Jail Free’_ cards?”

Jim face scrunches up in confusion. Headhunter’s smile grows impossibly large as he watches Jim try to make sense of what he just said. He lets out a hearty chuckle as he stands.  

“It will cost you a fee.”

Jim reaches into his jacket and again Headhunter stops him with a hand.

“Take your money to Penguin and get free run of Gotham. It’s the _new_ thing.”

Headhunter leaves the bar as he smirks to himself. He never gives information for free, but this one time he decides to let it slide. The Pax Penguina has made bounties null and void if the mark is carrying a license. That means _no money_ if law enforcement can’t hold onto the wanted criminal.

Jim digests what Headhunter said as he finishes his beer. He zips up his jacket and leaves the bar. He wants to talk to Harvey about this as soon as he gets into work tomorrow.

 

—>z<—

The next day, Victor is sprawled out in one of the booths at the club waiting for Penguin, who apparently has another job for him today. The Boss is currently holed up in his office again with Fries. It seems that’s all he ever does anymore.

Victor chalks it up him being antsy about the new licensure rollout. It isn’t the first time he’s seen Oswald become secretive and withdrawn. On the other hand, what _is_ weird is that he hasn’t once seen Penguin erupt into one of his regular tirades. Zsasz supposes _Fries_ is the one getting the honor these days.

As Victor waits, his mind drifts back to Tasha’s recent conversation with him and The Girls’ conversation he overheard. It really wasn’t until then that he realized exactly how long it’d been since he even _considered_ messing around with or fucking anybody else besides Jim. As it was, there were only a handful of people he’d fucked more than once (except for The Girls, but they’re _different_. Besides, it’s not like they fuck _all_ the time or anything).

_Has it really been that long?_

Victor had been baffled by his obsession with Jim as far back as their rooftop and garage encounters. As more time passed, he only became more enthralled with Jim. Zsasz found it unnerving.

He’s also surprised by his visceral response when he thought Jim was about to end things between them. If anything, _Zsasz_ is the one who walks away. He can’t remember a time when _he_ was the one being left.

When the crime lord emerges from his office, Zsasz rises from the booth and approaches. Fries follows Penguin out, listening as the small man mutters something to him. He narrows his eyes when he notices the platinum-haired man smirk before leaving. Penguin barks as he walks up.

“Zsasz, I need to discuss some refinements to the Pax Penguina with _that_ Captain Bullock. I want you there with me.”

Victor responds with a nod and quickly strides to the door, opening it for Penguin. Despite his impassive face, Victor feels conflicted about the prospect of running into Jim.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Jim. In fact, he _wants_ to see him. _Badly_. Jim’s all he ever thinks about in his downtime, no matter how busy Penguin keeps him. These days, that’s pretty damn busy. He even finds himself distracted with thoughts of Jim even when he’s supposed to be working.

Penguin’s surprisingly quiet the entire ride to the GCPD. Zsasz spends most of the drive wondering if his hunch that Jim wanted to end it could be wrong.

That’s when he feels that pang in his gut again: the same one he felt during their last night together at Mrs. Gordon’s house. Zsasz felt it after kissing Jim in the shower and looking down at the man’s changed expression. Jim no longer looked at him the way he had the entire weekend—especially when they were alone together. Jim avoided eye contact and cleared his throat, his voice hoarse when addressing him.

Zsasz is so preoccupied recalling every nuance of Jim’s body language and words, he doesn’t notice when the car stops announcing their arrival to the precinct. The sound of Penguin clearing his throat brings him to his senses.

Victor looks up and finds Penguin theatrically glancing at the limo door, raising his hands with splayed fingers. The diminutive man blinks dramatically and huffs.

“ _Victor?_ ”

Zsasz immediately exits the limo and holds the door open for him, scanning for threats (but mostly for any sign of Jim).

Once Penguin exits the car, Zsasz follows closely behind. Victor squares his shoulders and jaw. He scrupulously scans the area before striding up to the front entrance to open the door for The Boss.

Penguin enters and makes his way to the bullpen. Victor locks eyes with everyone he passes or dares to make eye contact with him. He puffs out an amused snort when he recognizes the desks he climbed and walked over when Don Falcone charged him with bringing in Jim. He can still hear the gunfire and shattering glass.

______

  
Jim arrives at the GCPD motorpool and enters the building through the garage access doors. Once inside, he hurries down the hall that opens out into the bullpen, intending to head to Harvey’s office. He halts in his tracks, unable to believe his eyes. Oswald and Zsasz are making their way through the bullpen to the captain’s door.

_What the hell?_

Zsasz stretches his trademark smug smile. He winks or arches a brow at various law enforcement personnel as he confidently swaggers through. He even points a finger pistol and loudly clicks his tongue at one particularly nervous looking cop.

Jim quickly backs into the hallway but keeps his eyes on Victor as he walks amongst officers at their desks. Jim can’t help but admire how Victor’s body moves; the way his arms sway make him look relaxed, assured. Despite his long gait, his head remains perfectly steady, his piercing eyes level on each staring officer. He smiles as Victor gives them his signature smirk, wink and finger pistols.

_Wonder if they’re gawking because a notorious criminal walks among them unchallenged or because Victor is so—striking. Beautiful._

Victor’s gait never falters until he passes Jim’s desk, unable to resist the temptation to look at it and scan for his whereabouts. Zsasz momentarily hesitates before catching himself.

Jim marvels how the assassin’s skin seems to give off its own soft light in the gloom of the precinct. He recalls having Victor’s hand in his own, completely fascinated by the pale of his skin in contrast to his. Jim’s right hand closes ever so slightly as he reminisces over their intertwined fingers.

He keeps his eyes glued to Victor as he halts momentarily to peer over at his work-cluttered desk. Jim’s heart skips a beat when he witnesses Victor’s eyes quickly scan his desk looking for a clue as to where he could be.

_It’s only been a few days but it feels like a lifetime ago since I’ve looked upon Victor._

Zsasz strides up to the bottom landing of the stairs and waits for Penguin to ascend them. As he does, he turns to face the cops, stretching a predatory grin with his arms crossed, just _daring_ anyone to approach.

Once Penguin makes it to the top of the stairs, he quickly scales them and strides up to Bullock’s door. He loudly bangs on it with his gloved fist and opens it for Oswald without bothering to wait for an invitation to enter.

Victor follows Oswald into the office and turns to shut the door.

Jim’s body aches to run to him, fling his arms around his shoulders and crush his mouth to his _sweet_ lips. _Those lips_ he has missed with every molecule of his being ever since their final kiss.

Jim gasps for air when he realizes he’s holding his breath. He turns and leans against the walls of the hallway. His breathing only becomes more ragged as his chest tightens. He stands and does his best to shake it off.

_There are going to be times where you and Victor will run into each other. Get a hold of yourself!_

Jim peers over and notices as the door to Harvey’s office closes. He decides to go over and listen in; he heads to his desk. He knows that Oswald is a loud talker and Harvey doubly so.

Zsasz stands in the corner behind the door as Penguin ceremoniously seats himself to discuss business. The gunman crosses his arms and leans against a filing cabinet, sucking his teeth as he casts Bullock a cold stare. Before Victor’s involvement with Jim, he couldn’t care less about the old drunk. But after the shit he talked during their meeting at Lem’s, Zsasz has grown to _hate_ him. The captain grits his teeth and returns a hard look before turning his reluctant attention to Penguin.

As the men talk, Victor idly studies the office in the light of day. He peers at the window he snuck into when he paid Jim a surprise visit for a workplace fuck less than two weeks ago.

Unlike last time, Harvey took pains to lock it. A smug grin pulls at Victor’s mouth. Zsasz watches the man’s temper rise as he sits glowering. Harvey’s face reddens and the rise and fall of his chest becomes more pronounced. Victor tilts his head and winks in response.

The assassin saunters up to the empty guest chair where he affixed Jim’s wrists and ankles in leather restraints. He takes a pointed look as he deliberately runs his boot along a leg and stretches a knowing smile. Victor painstakingly runs his leathered fingers along an arm of the chair and returns Bullock’s gaze.

Zsasz continues his torment. He crosses his arms, tilts his head and shrewdly studies the man’s desk, wistfully smiling as he recalls the delicious sight of a naked Jim seated atop it masturbating. Victor seated himself in Bullock’s chair before grabbing Jim by the haunches to suck him off.

Victor tilts his head and studies the man’s chair. He crinkles his brow and screws up his mouth when he realizes it’s _not_ the same one. Before long, Zsasz closes his eyes, opens his mouth and cranes his head back. He recalls Jim saying Harvey beat him into work the next morning before he could clean up the evidence of their epic fuckfest. Victor puffs out a self-satisfied snort.

 _He musta gotten rid of it after figuring out I sat in it when I blew Jim. Guess the old drunk isn’t_ **_that_ ** _shitty a detective after all. Still. Serves the asshole right for the shit he said during our last talk._

Zsasz locks eyes with Harvey. He flashes his teeth and his smile grows impossibly wide. Bullock’s now furious. His hands are clenched and shaking; his face and ears beet red.

Victor’s not done yet. He decides to check out the loveseat to see if he got rid of it. After all, it’s where he tied Jim up, cuffed him and gave him the belt before _actually fucking_ him.

He slowly walks to it. When he discovers it’s the very same one, he shoots Harvey a wry, self-satisfied grin over a shoulder. The veins in the Bullock’s head are practically bulging with anger, his composure barely holding.

Zsasz puffs out a chuckle. He leans over the loveseat, opens and peeks out the blinds into the bullpen—only to see Jim leaning against his desk and looking up impatiently at Harvey’s office.

Jim can’t hear all the specifics, but he hears enough to know that Harvey and a few of the officers are in on this Pax Penguina. Jim’s anger is barely holding. He looks over to the office blinds; a moving shadow catches his eyes. He sees a gloved hand move between the slants to push them down. Zsasz is looking straight at him. They lock eyes.

He can feel his heart skip a beat. He doesn’t care that Victor is protecting Oswald; he is still going to give the kingpin a piece of his mind.

Victor’s smugness instantly vanishes. He blinks and his breath catches in his throat. Zsasz is overwhelmed by conflicting emotions: relief of _finally_ seeing Jim, concern over whether or not they’re _really_ over and the pang in his gut when he recalls his huge mistake the last time he opened the very same blinds.

Jim was still dreamy-eyed after his orgasm, his face soft and grin wide. That’s when Victor reached behind to open a tiny slot for Jim to peek outside into the bullpen.

 _“So, what do you think everyone out there would say if they saw me balls deep in their golden boy?”_  
  
Jim went rigid, averted his eyes and withdrew his hands. That’s when Victor realized he fucked up. _Badly_. Despite the sincerity of his remorse, he struggled to apologize.  
  
_“Jim. Wait. I… I’m sorry.”_  
  
That’s when Jim asked him the question that forced him to face the painful truth he’d been avoiding for weeks.

 _“Am I just something for you to amuse yourself with?”_  
_  
_ _“No, Jim. You’re… **more** than that.”_

Victor returns to himself and casts Jim a long, yearning gaze, overcome by the feeling blooming in his chest and the ache in his body.

_Get your shit together, Zsasz. You’re supposed to be working._

Jim notices Victor’s smile drops and his eyes soften. Jim drops his arms from his chest at the unexpected change of expression.

Zsasz takes a determined breath, releases the blinds and channels the breezy confidence he’s famous for. He turns around and looks back at the men who appear to be wrapping things up.

Victor runs his gloved hand along the leather loveseat and locks eyes with Harvey. He pulls down the corners of his mouth and gives the man a measured nod, taking the opportunity to get in one last barb as Penguin prepares to leave.

“Gotta say, Bullock. I _really like_ the leather.”

Victor runs his fingers down the arm of it and stretches a shit-eating grin before opening the door for Penguin.

“It _never_ goes outta style and...” Victor arches a brow. “…it’s _so easy_ to clean, right?”

Harvey narrows his eyes at the insolent goon. Throughout his meeting with Penguin he had to put up with Zsasz pointing out all the places he fucked Jim. Harvey refuses to give Victor the satisfaction of a reply; he watches as they both exit his office.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good LORT my Zsaszy’s such a taunting &sshole! I had SO MUCH FUN writing that sh!t in Bullock’s office. I kinda felt bad for Harvey—but not bad enough to stop being a d!ck! :D
> 
> I’m chalkin’ it up to my poor murder muffin being stressed about The Girls talkin’ ‘bout him and the dawning realization of exactly HOW BAD he’s got it for Jim. Po’ thang! He don’t know what to do, y’all. He ain’t used to feelings that don’t involve hunger, anger or horniness. 
> 
> And effin’ Wendell aka: Headhunter?! YASSS!! 8^)
> 
> Oh right! The Zsaszette’s gossip material came from “Boxcutter” chapter 5. Chapters 14 and 15 cover GorZsasz’s epic f*ckfest in Harvey’s office. Don’t forget to read Deya’s delicious “The Problem with Captain Bullock” for Harvey’s POV on discovering evidence of said f*ckfest if you haven’t already. :3 SO JUICY! }8>
> 
> ______
> 
> The inevitable happens so quickly sometimes. Jim watching on as Zsasz escorts Oswald into the precinct.... UH OH!
> 
> I love the way Zsasz visited each spot in the office where he made Jim weak with desire. Naughty naughty Zsasz. 
> 
> Things are just getting started! 
> 
> ~FC


	3. Lone Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim confronts Oswald only to be presented with a dreaded outcome. The detective soon finds himself alone in his stance against the Pax Penguina.

—>j<—

Jim watches impatiently as the door to the office opens; Oswald is the first to exit. Jim waits for him to get down the stairs. The small kingpin casts a smug smile Jim’s way. The detective pushes off his desk as he storms over to Penguin. His face contorts into a scowl as he rushes into Oswald’s personal space; the small man stumbles a step backwards. A deep snarl escapes Jim’s throat.

 

 

“You have got some _nerve_. After _what we agreed on!_ ”

Oswald shuffles a couple of steps back, taken completely off guard by Jim’s audacity, especially with Zsasz standing next to him.

 Victor watches on, gritting his teeth at the impossible situation and the conflicting emotions whirling within him. He scrupulously assesses both men. Normally, he would already be aiming his Sig at the face of Penguin’s attacker but, for the _first time ever_ , he hesitates because it’s _Jim_.

Harvey is sitting at his desk closely watching at what is transpiring outside his door. He wants to manhandle Penguin by his suit lapels, drag him to the doors, and fling him like a frisbee for coming into _his_ precinct like he owns the place. He also wants to kick Victor in the teeth for pointing out all the places in his office he had his perverted ways with Jim.

Harvey notices a few officers slowly approach the scene. He vigorously shakes his head and shoots out one of his hands. He makes a gesture with it just under his chin, flat and sliding back and forth. A couple of the officers noticing the captain usher the others to cease in their tracks.

Oswald swivels his head as his fierce green eyes blaze back. He hisses.

“Oh, I think the tides of power are in my favor now, _old friend._ Remind me, who’s in _your corner?_ ”

Jim can feel the old urge, the one that he had thought passed. The urge to inflict carnage and pain, to render Oswald to pieces.

Victor’s dread rises as Jim confronts Penguin and surrenders to that dark, primal _thing_ that he and Jim share. It’s just a matter of time before he’s forced to intervene.

“What did I say, Oswald? In the freezer. _You know._ That _one_ thing I said I would do if you got greedy?”

Jim leans in closer; a wicked grin pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looks Oswald up and down.

Victor clenches his teeth knowing Jim is fighting a losing battle. Penguin owns almost all his coworkers, his boss and the GCPD brass. He even has the buy-in of the police commissioner and mayor. Oswald physically falters but his words never do.

Jim’s now a hair’s breadth from Penguin, but the crime lord is still holding his own. Zsasz scans Jim’s eyes and recognizes _that look_ again—the one he saw when the man took out the traffickers. Jim is about to force his hand.

Oswald lets out a nervous laugh when he gazes into _those eyes_ that are so different now, like back in the stairwell that night he framed Edward for the murder in his club. He swallows and finds his guts again.

“I don’t think you are in any position to— _fuck me._ I am grateful for that favor you gave me, Jim. _But_ you don’t understand; I don’t want to play by your rules or your game. I’ve made my _own_ game and guess what? You. Are. Alone. Rendered ineffectual. So go on. Bluster. Rage. Threaten. _You can never defeat me._ ”

Jim can feel the flash of heat. The blinding of red. Every nerve in his body sparks. He can’t think or rationalize any longer. Before he can stop himself, his hand shoots out and grabs Oswald’s neck, his grip begins to tighten. His breathing turns to panting as his desire to crush the small man increases.

Oswald croaks and turns his head to Zsasz.

Victor clamps down hard on Jim’s forearm with his left hand, wedging the fingers of his right beneath the man’s thumb. He forcefully supinates Jim’s arm, torquing it outward with both hands, so that he can slot himself in front of Penguin.

Jim is now forced to deal with _him_. He takes another step forward, towering over Jim and clamping down on his forearm like a vice. Zsasz shakes Jim and addresses him with a low and menacing snarl.

“ _Jim_. You want Penguin? You gotta go through _me_.”

Jim snaps out of his bloodlust as Victor shakes him like a rag doll; there’s a pressure on his arm that wasn’t there a second ago. His tunnel vision begins to return to normal. He never saw nor registered Victor stepping between them. Jim blinks and looks at his forearm in Victor’s hand. _That hand._ Biting. His brow furrows in confusion. He takes a step back.

Victor blinks and swallows thickly.

 _The last time I held Jim’s arm like this was the first time I kissed him._  
  
Zsasz’s breathing grows ragged at the recollection, wanting desperately to relive _that_ moment and not the currently unfolding hell. He peers deeply into the blue eyes he’s thought of non-stop since returning to Gotham. Victor addresses Jim again, working hard to keep his voice low and threatening, hoping his tone won’t betray him.

_“Got it?”_

Jim looks up at Victor’s face and blinks again.  
  
Jim barely hears his threat. His mind a mess with this very moment. This very scenario. He and Zsasz in contention. The exact situation he tried _so hard_ to warn himself about.  
  
Jim looks at Victor's grip again, his chest tight and painful. His breathing labored. His brow twists in agony. His eyes stare at _that hand._ The same hand that lovingly stroked him many times before. The same hand he _held_ and _marveled_ at. The hand that’s now wrenching and grinding. The same hand he wants _so desperately_ to hold again.  
  
Jim’s eyes look back at Victor, searching… heartbroken.

Victor looks back in anguish. His heart sinks when Jim stares at his leathered grip. When Jim finally returns his gaze, Victor wants to shoot every last person in the building, take Jim into his arms and drag him away from this shit show.

_How did this get so fucking complicated?_

Zsasz’s brow and grip soften. He wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves so he could actually _feel_ Jim. He aches to _touch_ him again. The fact he’s _so close_ to him and can’t only makes it worse. Victor can actually _feel_ himself tremble.

He surreptitiously circles Jim’s forearm with his thumb and contritely releases him. Zsasz struggles to maintain a convincing enough posture and countenance for Penguin as the pangs seize his gut over Jim’s crestfallen expression and downcast eyes.

Harvey runs over. He notices a tension between Jim and Victor, something not related to the moment at hand.

_Jim coulda broken from that hold, no problem. Shit, he’s holdin’ back because it’s Victor._

Despite Victor’s threat, Jim looks unresponsive and shocked _._ Even if Jim brought it upon himself, Harvey doesn’t want him to suffer. He notices a shimmer of welling developing in those baby blues.

Harvey’s temper ignites. Before he can give it any thought, he growls at Oswald.

“We are done here! So why don’t you take your fuckin’ _goon_ and get lost!”

Jim casts his gaze down to the floor. He can hear Harvey barking at Oswald. He doesn’t care anymore. He is now resolute in his decision to push Victor away. This is the very situation he tried to save himself from. The one he failed to prevent. He’s just lucky that it didn’t turn violent. He knows he checks out mentally when his rage consumes him. He still feels the lingering effects of the Tetch Virus deep in the recesses of his mind.

Jim swears he felt Victor caress his arm just before releasing him; he’s unsure if he imagined it. He doesn’t want to look at him anymore. He wants it all to go away. The pain. The conflict. The feeling he gets when he looks at _him_.

_...Love?_

Jim swallows down a huge lump in his throat. His heart racing beyond control; he feels his pulse in all his extremities. He knows he reacted foolishly. He caused _this_ to happen.

 _Maybe I wanted it to happen sooner rather than later._ _That way it drives me from him._ **_See_ ** _how much he’s changed me? I would have never held back—till now._

The small kingpin whips his head over to flash Harvey a scowl, upset that the old man interrupted the juicy drama unfolding before him.

“I was about to leave before your _dog_ came at me! You should really have _it_ on a leash!”

Oswald’s eyes twinkle when he returns his attention to the detective.

Jim swallows and turns his head when he hears Oswald‘s vehement words. He glowers at the small man wishing his hands were still wrapped around his throat.

Zsasz struggles to suppress the urge to throttle Penguin for his epithet.

Jim feels his breathing getting out of control again. The urge to render the small man to bits grows stronger with each heartbeat. He can feel himself about to charge again. He quickly averts his eyes and returns them to the floor at Victor’s boots, willing his temper to dissipate.

Oswald gives Jim a fake pout as he tilts his head to the side. His sharp gaze then analyzes his enforcer, scrutinizing Victor’s subtle body posture that seems— _off_. Oswald presses his lips together and silently fumes. He inhales a sharp breath and barks.

“Victor! Let’s go!”

Oswald hobbles away as quickly as possible.

Victor presses his eyes and lips closed. Jim still hasn’t looked back and he has to leave with Penguin. His fingers twitch, longing to touch him again. As he walks away, he furtively reaches for Jim’s forearm in a feeble attempt to offer _some_ kind of reassurance.

Jim shuts his eyes tightly and turns his hung head away, rejecting the small gesture. Once he hears the both of them walking away into the bullpen, he turns to look at Victor. The assassin’s body is stiff and not the relaxed posture he had when he first entered the building.

Harvey watches as Jim stares at the two exiting from the precinct. He feels his gut clench; he’s sure the detective heard them talk in the office.

_Jim knows about Pax Penguina._

Zsasz follows Penguin out the front doors, his exit nowhere near as easy as his entrance. All his bravado and cockiness are painfully absent.

It takes every ounce of will he has to keep himself from glancing back at Jim.

Jim turns back around and notices that Harvey is watching him. The expression on Bullock’s face somber, as he averts his gaze from Jim. The captain shuffles towards his door and waits for him.

Jim quickly marches into the captain’s office.

Harvey sighs as he turns to close the door behind him; he’s expecting a yelling match.

_Maybe it’s best we air everythin’ out, once and for all._

Jim hangs his head and places both hands on his hips; his eyes shift to lock onto Harvey. He overheard the discussion between him and Penguin. Jim now knows that Harvey’s part of _Pax Peguina._

Jim feels sick to his stomach. He’s disgusted with himself, with the corruption within the precinct walls and at Harvey for keeping it all a secret.

 _None of this would had happened if I jailed Oswald and brought frozen Edward in._ _Instead, I cut him a deal, safer streets for territory. I should have known he would blow up my demand into a monumental mess. He got greedy._

Harvey heads to his desk. He takes out a pack of smokes and a bottle of Jack. He opens a window and lights his cigarette, brushing off Jim’s dirty look. He inhales and lets out a large plume of smoke, he mutters as he brings the bottle to his lips.

“Out with it, Jimbo.”

There are many questions formulating in Jim’s head, he finds himself unable to give it all voice. He blurts out with frustration.

“Why?”

Harvey chases a swig with another puff, his eyes taking in the late morning cityscape. He states flatly.

“Debt, mountains of cripplin’ debt. You don’t approve of his plan and, to be honest, I don’t either, but let’s look at the facts. Crime has gone down since Pax Penguina. Yeah, there’s the double-sided coin of sanctioned crime but it’s a small price to pay.”

Jim can feel his rage build at the fact that Penguin was handed leverage over the GCPD. He can feel his breathing getting away from him. He snarls at Harvey.

“You _handed_ him the GCPD on a silver platter! There are good cops out there that want to make a difference but not like this! _Not like this_ , Harvey!”

Bullock continues indulging in his vices, remaining silent to let Jim rant.

Jim runs a hand through his hair; his eyes tracking back and forth on the ground. His outrage building over the fact that now he won’t be able to get Oswald under control. He has no idea how far up the corruption goes. Jim growls.

“Why would you keep this _secret_ from me? I could have done something!”

Harvey snaps and storms over to Jim, the bottle and cigarette still in his hand. He growls under his breath as he points a finger at Jim’s face.

“ _You_ want to talk ‘bout secrets? Huh? _You_ of all people begrudgin’ me my secrets while you cling to _yours?!_ ”

Jim can feel his anger give way to apprehension as Harvey continues.

“ _Yeah, I know all ‘bout your secrets._ I had the misfortune of witnessin’ your secret in action on several occasions. You know the one.” He gestures with one hand above his head. “Stands ‘bout six foot-two— _all in black_. A _real_ creep.” He points a finger into Jim’s chest, “I wonder what else you let slide because you and Zsasz are _fuckin’_ each other.”

Jim takes in a deep breath and slumps into a chair in front of Harvey’s desk. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, bringing his palms to his forehead. He then confesses.

“I know he has Edward. I found out during the raid on his club. He has The Riddler in a large ice block. I told Oswald he could keep him and in exchange, he keeps wars off the streets. This is all my fault.”

Harvey lets out a scoff and continues to smoke. He isn’t the least bit shocked. Not much really takes him by surprise these days, except maybe Jim and Zsasz fucking each other.

“It’s over. Me and Zsasz, that’s _over_.”

Jim gets up and leaves the office without another word.

Harvey returns to his open window and sits on the sill. He takes a long sweeping glance of his office and scoffs. He taps out another cigarette from the pack and lights it with the still burning ember of the first. He flicks the spent butt to the sidewalk below and guzzles at his bottle.

Harvey exhales a large sigh.

_I’m gonna havta’ burn this whole goddamn office down._

 

__

 

—>j<—

A month later, Jim walks to a local coffee shop a block from a hotel where he’s staying for the week. He strides up the sidewalk and past a school bus stop. He hears a little kid crying and an older boy wrapping his arm over the kid’s shoulders. The older kid hands the distraught young boy a cookie. The small boy looks up and smiles as he wipes his tears away. Jim’s stride halts for a fraction of a moment; the odd feeling of familiarity of the scene passes as quickly as it appears. He continues to the door of the coffee shop.

He nods at the young pretty cashier. The woman perks up when she sees him walk through the door; she bats her eyes at him as a coy smile plays on her pink lips. Jim offers her his best smile even though he is too exhausted to flirt with her this morning.

He hardly sleeps these days. He is constantly plagued with nightmares.

The most recent one messed him up for a bit. He was with Victor but trapped and threatened into a relationship with him. He remembers being locked in a large bedroom. Every night he was either lovingly adored or beaten within an inch of his life. He never knew what Victor would do when he walked through the door. He remembers being powerless to defend himself but he loved Victor nonetheless. It took Jim far too long to shake the despair when he finally woke up.

He knows the nightmares are systematic of everything he is repressing his life. He was sure that having his past secret affair with Victor out in the open would take some of the weight off of his shoulders. It only made things worse. Harvey no longer trusts him and questions every decision he makes at crime scenes. Fox often stands by Jim’s side to disprove Harvey’s doubts with expert analytical examinations. Still, Harvey has a deep mistrust of him.

Jim slowly makes his way to the bathroom before ordering his customary black coffee. He finishes emptying his bladder and washes his hands. He braces himself at the sink and takes in a small breath before splashing cold water on his face. He feels a bit of relief as he dries himself. He walks back into the main coffee bar area in time to hear a male voice gruff out commands.

“All right no funny business, pretty thing! Open that register!”

The girl lets out a surprised squeal and chokes out.

“Okay! Just please, don’t shoot me! I’m only a part timer. I don’t care if you take the money; just be _cool!_ ”

The armed robber cackles as he brandishes the shotgun in both hands.

“That’s right babydoll. I’ll be cool. Go on; start packin’ dem duckets!”

Jim takes cover behind a pyramid stand of coffee accoutrements. He draws his weapon and looks over to the coffee bar. A short greasy looking man is holding a shotgun to the cashier. His movements fidgety as he shuffles from foot to foot, his finger on the trigger.

The young woman has her hands up and trembling. She hesitantly reaches for the register, expecting the sound of the gun to go off, killing her.

The man mutters incoherently as he turns his attention to the pastry display to the right of the counter. He lets his guard down and shuffles the shotgun to his left hand, grasping the stock. His right hand fingers the glass case as he eyes the confectionary treats.

“While you’re at it, gimmie all these!”

Jim sees a window of opportunity and reholsters his gun. He quickly closes in on the armed robber as he points to the treats, moaning with anticipation. The cashier is grabbing and throwing all the cookies and cakes into the paper bag with the money.

Jim easily grabs the shotgun out of the limp-handed grasp. The shocked man turns in time to see the butt of his own gun come crashing into his face. The man wails and stumbles, clutching at his broken nose. Jim delivers another blow to the man’s bloodied face, sending the small man falling to the ground. The robber thrashes onto his back and stares down the barrel of the shotgun.

“You’re under arrest! Keep your hands where I can see them. Now, slowly turn onto your stomach!”

The man stammers through the blood pouring in the back of his throat and out the front of his face. He hisses out in defiance.

“H… h… hey! I… I… I have a license! You… you… you can’t do this! I’m gonna tell and Pe… Pe… Penguin is gonna come down on you hard!”

Jim sucks his teeth and then delivers a swift kick to the man’s crotch. The man emits a breathless wail as his body contorts. Jim quickly descends and flips him over to cuff.

Jim shoves the cuffed robber into the backseat of his sedan and throws the shotgun into his trunk. The young woman scurries out with hot coffee and a pastry to thank him. She also slips him her number and winks.

“Call me. I’m free all weekend.”

Jim smiles and raises an eyebrow as he watches her sashay back into the coffee bar.

At the GCPD, Jim shoves his latest Pax Penguina capture into a holding cell. The other officers in on the deal glare at the detective but they don’t dare confront Jim.

The bloody-faced man digs into his pocket and waves the license as he shouts to be let go. Jim doubles back from heading to his desk; he snatches card and rips it up in front of him.

“What _license?_ ”

Jim strides his way to his desk to check his messages and to catch up on cases. Harvey is leaning at his office doorway with his arms crossed. He nods over to a couple of cops to free the man Jim arrested.

Harvey strokes his beard and walks over to Jim.

“You’re wasting your time. Why keep doin’ it? You have bigger fish to fry with murder cases.”

Jim snaps a folder shut and glares at Harvey.

“All it takes is for one of these _licensed criminals_ to go off the deep end and kill someone. Then what? Are you going to let a murderer walk because he has one of Penguin’s cards?

Harvey exhales a large puff of air and shrugs. He mutters.

“Why not? You have.”

Harvey cringes at his own words. He’s been a never-ending fountain of word vomit since the day Oswald and Victor walked in. He and Jim have become estranged from each other, their friendship torn to shreds. They fight every day but Harvey never once punched below the belt, till now.

Jim turns his gaze from Harvey; his words cut into the quick of him. He knows he doesn’t have a leg to stand on in this particular battle. A dull ache blooms in his chest as his brow furrows. He offers no retort and dives back into his workload.

Harvey shuffles back into his own office, his own chest aching over his hurtful words. He knows he’s beating a dead horse. There are no signs that Jim is still seeing Victor. Yet, it’s the one thing he can’t let go and it continues to fuel his discontent with his ex-best friend. He can tell Jim is hurting over it all. He always looks tired, defeated and sullen.

_Don’t you remember fuckin’ Mooney? You goddamn idiot. You fucked her for favors. Jim fucked Zsasz because he seemed to really like the creep._

Harvey sits in his chair and stares out his window.

Jim flips his phone open and scrolls through his text messages. It’s become a habit when his pain and loneliness become too unbearable. He scrolls to Victor’s contact name “Abusive Boyfriend” and opens their past messages. He knows he’s torturing himself, but it’s the only thing that brings a small smile to his face. He skims through short messages about seeing each other and Victor’s persistence at wanting to tag along for the family get together.

A memory of the first night at his mother’s house pops into his head. Victor tending to the fresh tally marks with all the tenderness and care of a devoted lover. Done with his task, Victor sat with his back against the headboard, his arms outstretched waiting for Jim to shuffle into his embrace. Jim curled himself in between Victor’s legs, laying his head on his lap. Victor’s soft fingertips stroked all along his shoulder, arm and head. Victor murmured softly; it was indecipherable to his ears but Jim surmises it was Hebrew or a dialect there of.

He can still feel Victor softly petting him. Long graceful fingers moving in soft feathery strokes. Fingers attached to _that hand_.

... _That hand_.

That wrenched down on his arm.

Harming.

_...That voice._

Threatening. _Demanding._

Eyes dark and cold. That light that shined just for him… _gone._

_I allowed him to get so far into my head that I stopped myself from what I would naturally do. I can’t continue this way..._

Jim inhales sharply and hangs his head. He snaps the phone shut ending the painful stroll down memory lane. He reaches inside of his jacket to deposit his phone but before he does, he fingers the outline of Victor’s boxcutter.

He also recently went through a painful phone call with his mother. She asked about Victor immediately after they caught up on current events.

_Irene coos into the phone._

_“How’s Victor? Edna goes on and on about him! Any chance he’ll come to Thanksgiving? I sure would love to see his sweet face again.”_

_Jim takes a deep breath and feels his heart sink. His voice cracking as he begins to explain._

_“Mom… uh.”_

_Irene takes in a long breath. She inquires sadly._

_“James, what happened? Did you two break up?”_

_The fact his mother knew they were lovers only makes his pain worse. He chokes out._

_“I… I’m sorry, mom. I… uh, always seem to fuck up.”_

_“Ssh ssh ssh, no James. Don’t you worry none. You just go on and lead your life the best way you can. I just want you to be happy.”_

Jim smiles, appreciative of her soothing words. He sighs as he grabs his jacket, quickly making his way out the doors to go get some lunch.

Jim sits in Gotham Central Park to enjoy a philly cheese steak sandwich from a food truck. The day is beautifully clear and the autumn air, crisp; a complete contrast to the dark and depressed mood he’s in. His mind preoccupies on Victor and the guilt he still feels over abandoning him without a word. Jim slowly works through his sandwich as his mood grows sullen. He watches a couple with their two kids walking nearby. The two little boys are side by side as they talk amongst themselves. The older kid hands the younger a small ball. Jim eyes the family for a moment or two then he returns to eating. His bad mood lifting when he recalls all the times he and his father went to baseball games or played catch in the park.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That scene outside Harvey’s office ‘bout phuccin’ killed me. I remember RPing that. I knew it was gonna be a painful, but it was so much worse than I imagined. These two repressed, powerful and high-profile men on opposite sides of the law have a fling and deep feelings for one another—only to find themselves squaring off in front of a huge audience (that includes that messy b!tch Penguin)? 
> 
> Then that Gordlock sh!t afterward? “It’s over. Me and Zsasz, that’s over.” “Why not? You have?” I’m not crying! You’re crying! Deya writes the most deliciously painful sh!t. I know it’s sad as f*ck, but I really love how she presents the pain and conflict between my favorite work married couple. It hurt my black Zsasz heart to see my beloved Jim hurting like that, his alienation at work and convo with Big Momma Gordon? “I wanna go back to another Gordon family barbecue so I can kiss my babe, the Grill Master!”
> 
> And don’t even get me started on him scrolling through those texts with Zsasz and remembering our last encounter in front of Bullock’s office.
> 
> Holy heavy angst, Batman! HOLD ME, DEYA! }8> -o-
> 
> Wanna reference Boxcutter material addressing GorZsasz’s first kiss, Jim’s concerns about their involvement and the Gobblepot tête-à-tête? Check out chapters 4, 7 and 8.
> 
> ______
> 
> OK so I accidentally posted this before I should have. Damnedable buttons.
> 
> ANYHOW, this chapter had me all kinds of heartbroken and anxious for the RP. I initially thought about ramping up the contention between Victor and Jim but figured since this is on GCPD grounds and even though there are cops on the take the officers would intervene if Victor got severely physical with Jim.
> 
> I love RPing heartbreaking scenarios with Jess. Shit gets real =)


	4. Oubliette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long period of silence, Victor finds clues that Jim has moved on without him. Distraught and wanting to quell his need, Victor searches for someone else to satisfy his desires.

—>z<—

Zsasz stares at his phone. He crinkles his brow and screws up his mouth. It’s been weeks since he last saw Jim at the precinct with Penguin when things went so badly.

The past weeks have been surprisingly difficult for him. Penguin’s more on edge and continues to rely increasingly on Freeze. Victor finds himself relegated to licensure enforcement and other less sensitive assignments.

The Boss also has more and more closed meetings to which he’s not privy. They take place in his absence or seem to wrap up just as he arrives. Penguin has even taken to approaching some of his men _directly_ , rather than going through him. It rankles Victor. _He_ should be learning about plans from Penguin, _not_ from his men.

_That’s just how it’s done. It’s how we’ve always done things. He may be The Boss, but they’re my men. Not his._

Fries, Pike and _even_ _Pepper_ have also been shutting him out. The only one who treats him the same is Olga.

He catches himself looking at his phone hoping for texts or calls from Jim at least once a day.

He _never_ finds one.

 _Ever_.

He considers sending a text, but finds his usual cleverness painfully absent. Victor grits his teeth and finally tries calling Jim, but it goes straight to voicemail. He even tries Cyril’s old phone that Jim took. Same thing.

He passes by Jim’s apartment building and sees his sedan in its assigned parking space. He parks and heads upstairs. The blinds are open enough for him to peer through. It looks just like it did when he and Jim left for Mrs. Gordon’s, which is odd. By now, Jim’s apartment would have returned to that “lived in” state he’s so accustomed to seeing it in. Victor always assumed an Army guy like Jim would be a lot more tidy—but then again, Jim has never been exactly what he appears.

He reaches for the door handle and finds it open.

Once inside, he looks around. He’s struck by how much everything looks the same.

_Exactly the same._

He walks around a little, first heading for the kitchen. When Victor opens the refrigerator door, what hits him first is the smell. He takes a look inside and finds nothing’s changed from when he last looked in there, just the pungent stench of long-spoiled takeout.

His eye drifts to the barstool where he instructed the detective to sit after being shot. Jim’s smile was wide and dreamy from his prescribed painkillers.

_“I’m not sure if you’re really here or not, but I’m enjoying the view.”_

When he enters Jim’s bedroom, he _really_ notices the smell in the air. Undisturbed. Still. It’s been this way for days given the faint stale odor.

_It doesn’t smell like Jim anymore._

Everything’s locked in stasis. Abandoned. Forgotten.

Victor looks to the bathroom door and recalls Jim peering out from around it as he brushed his teeth, playfully wiggling the unopened toothbrush package at him.

_“Get the scent of dick out of your mouth.”_

_“Cop dick, no less.”_

Victor puffs out a mirthless snort at the cheeky banter that somehow doesn’t seem as funny anymore.

He turns his head and his eyes drift to Jim’s bed. He stands perfectly still and silently peers at it, dazed. Zsasz’s mind drifts to the memory of Jim’s lazy embrace after passing out on top of him in a drug-addled stupor...

_On this bed._

_The first time I slept with Jim…_

_On this bed._

_The first time Jim took me in his mouth…_

_On this bed._

_The first time I fucked Jim…_

_On this bed._

His mind’s eye still sees Jim beneath him. His body still feels Jim hot and hungry... waiting and panting….

The pangs in his gut and chest bring him to his senses. He blinks and shakes his head before returning to the living room. He briefly stops at Jim’s bookcase.

 _Something’s_... _off_.

_Wait._

_Something’s… different. Something…_

Victor finds a phone on the shelf and opens it. He finds the most recent text on it—from _Boss Z._

_That’s what Cyril used to call me._

It’s the phone Jim used to first text him, warning him about the rival gangs that hit Penguin’s club when Jim got shot.

 _The phone Jim accidentally texted me on the night before_ **_he_ ** _approached_ **_me_ ** _for the first time._

He grits his teeth as he reads the final text he sent Jim, even though he already knows what it says. He still has all Jim’s texts because he never had the heart to delete them.

He looks at them _every. fucking. day_.

_“Do you want t—“_

_“Do I want to what?”_

_Jim?”_

His mind drifts to the first time he sat in Jim’s car and took the man’s phone to enter his contact information. He recalls circling the hollow of his hand before he returned his phone and leaned to kiss him.

_“I’d hate to think you couldn’t reach me whenever you... need me.”_

Victor recalls Jim’s quiet whimper when their lips touched and the way _Jim_ held _his_ face with _both_ _hands_. He remembers _Jim_ leading _him_ to the garage.

It was the first time he reached inside Jim’s pants and took him into his bare hand.

 _The_ _first_ _time_ _I_ _made_ _Jim_ _cum_.

The same night he admitted to Jim he wanted to see him again.

Admitted it to _himself_.

It finally occurs to Victor that, despite his recent call, it doesn’t show missed. He scrolls through it and can feel the rising dread as he receives the visual confirmation.

_Jim blocked my number._

He briefly forgets to breathe.

Zsasz recalls all Jim’s tells during the last night they spent together at his mom’s house: Jim’s warm gaze was cast downward. It was uncertain. _Reluctant_. His normally sure, candid and even suggestive voice became hesitant, evasive and meek.

_He had all the same tells every other time he ran._

Zsasz snaps the phone shut and deliberately returns it to the bookshelf, only to notice the picture of Jim with his father is missing.

And _that’s_ when it _really_ hits him:

_Jim’s gone._

He takes in a uneven breath and clenches his jaw. He quickly spins on his heel to head for the door, only to see the recliner.

Victor remembers smiling up at Jim’s surprise and excitement with the sudden change of position when he pulled the recliner handle. Jim fell atop him, their bodies entwined. He thrusted hungrily into Jim. He recalls the feel of Jim’s body, Jim’s moaning and heavy breathing. He remembers being covered in Jim’s scent as the man rode him and he burst inside him.

His body suddenly aches.

Victor’s assaulted by even _more_ feelings with which he’s unaccustomed, the ones he first felt in this very apartment. The first time, they unnerved him.

This time, the ache is _acute_. It’s nothing like where he’s _used_ to feeling it: lower in his dick and deep in his balls when he’s ready to fuck. It’s in his chest and his gut. He suddenly becomes aware of the welling behind his eyes.

_What the fuck?_

Zsasz blinks it back and chokes it down. He quickly strides out the door and slams it behind him before hastily making his way down the stairs to his Yamaha.

 

—

Victor casually nods at the bouncers as he strides up to The Foxglove in hopes of finding some form of distraction after visiting Jim’s apartment earlier. Peaches’ iconic “[ Fuck the Pain Away”](https://youtu.be/GmFp0I8AZqw) pipes through speakers as he enters the foyer.

He’s relieved to find Fayizah working the door and not Solange. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see the sassy, bodacious woman, but he hasn’t exactly been himself lately. Fayizah just doesn’t know him the way Solange does.

_Nothing gets past her._

The tall, lissome beauty is in a gunmetal, ruched halter mini dress and some silver, strappy platforms with rhinestones. She waves him forward and stretches a warm smile. He sidles up to her and purrs as he slowly runs his hand down her exposed back and rests his palm on the small of it. Her umber skin is just as smooth and supple as he last remembers. Victor nudges her neck and takes her earlobe between his teeth.

She purrs in reply.

“I take it, unlike the last time I saw you, you’re here for _pleasure_ and not business.”

He hums in her ear and reaches around her waist.

“Mm-hmm… When’s your shift over?”

She slightly pushes him back to look up at him, her reply throaty.

“Victor, the last time I met you after my shift, I missed the next day’s shift.”

She looks to his mouth and twitches a hair.

“I have to work tomorrow.”

He offers an arched brow and suggestive grin.

“So… _tomorrow_ _night_ , then?”

She purrs as she runs a perfectly-manicured finger down his chest.

“We’ll see.”

He nips her neck below the ear before entering the club. She smiles and shakes her head before returning her attention to the door.

Zsasz makes his way through the club and stops at the Kinbaku tableau. Most of the models are women, so he’s pleasantly surprised to find a man bound. The dark, tattooed and dreadlocked model is in a red latex blindfold. He’s suspended in a full lotus position with his arms bound around his back.

Victor slowly circles the man. He studies the elaborate knots biting into his flesh and meticulously appraises his well-muscled and tattooed body, tempted to trace the criss-crossing pattern of ropes and knots binding the man’s chest. An appreciative grin slowly stretches across his face as he sweeps his eyes down the man’s body. He’s particularly fascinated by the model’s triceps, quads, lower back and glutes before he moves on to the next tableau.

Victor continues sauntering through the club and stops to watch a black leather-clad Domina dazzling the audience with her whip work. He pulls down the corners of his mouth and slowly nods as he evaluates her technique.

_Lilith’s sidearm and overhand flicks have gotten a lot better._

He eventually progresses to a platform where woman slowly drags her pull tab between her legs. By the time he stops, the dark-haired beauty has unzipped her through crotch zipper all the way back her teal catsuit, revealing her painstakingly styled pubic hair against the backdrop of her sepia skin.

Zsasz rakes his eyes all over stunner, mapping her breasts and hips as she slowly lowers herself onto her queening stool. Her corseted and fishnetted sub lies in wait as she follows her Top’s descent.

As the woman seats herself, Victor licks and bites his lower lip. The tealed woman tosses her head back and quivers as her sub shudders and softly undulates. He quietly moans and feels the stir.

Just then, Victor spies a lithe, raven-haired man out of his peripheral vision. He turns to get a better look and recognizes the young man dressed like The Boss.

_That’s the pro Jim is so hot for and protective of._

Zsasz first saw the man when Penguin assigned him to track the detective. Jim questioned him outside the gay bar that Victor eventually tracked him through.

_That was the first time Jim winked at me._

Victor briefly closes his eyes trying to recall the pro’s name.

_Joy Division t-shirt. Unknown Pleasures. What’s his name?_

He recalls watching Jim with the young man the last time he visited the Foxglove—until the kid drew the curtains of their booth and he could no longer see what they were doing. Zsasz remembers his conversation with Jim that very night.

 _“I liked watching you with your friend—right until he drew the curtain. Until then, I thought I could share you.”_  
  
_“And if I had fucked Sean?_  
_  
“Just as long as I get to watch, Jim.”_

_That’s it. Sean._

Victor studies the pro’s purple tie and waistcoat with this black tailed suit. Victor puffs out a snort and shakes his head at the cane and rhinestoned wingtips.

_It really is uncanny how much that kid looks like Penguin. He’s just younger and prettier._

Victor suddenly recalls discovering exactly how protective Jim was of him. It was the same night he first fucked Jim. Zsasz was surprised by his jealousy over the kid and even confronted Jim about it. Victor was never averse to sharing people or concerned about them being with others—at least before Jim. He can still hear Jim’s retort.

 _“Why do you care if I was hard for a twink? Last I looked, I didn't belong to you.”_  
  
Victor withdrew his combat knife from between his teeth and dragged it down Jim’s sternum.

 _“No, Jim. You don’t.”_  
  
_“Then why do you care?”_  
  
Victor clenches his jaw and can still feel his jealousy pique.

_“I want you for myself.”_

_“What am I to you? A possession?”_

He shakes his head from the memory and looks up to see Sean approached by a man who appears to be his john. The men soon head for the staircase to find a private room.

Victor quickly makes his way to the two men and intercepts Sean before they reach the foot of the stairs. He adroitly takes his forearm, turns it over and places three hundred bucks in the palm of his hand.

“I wanna spend some time with you.”

Zsasz tilts his head towards the john without even bothering to look at him.

“I’ll pay _double_ his rate.”

Victor ignores the john’s protests and nods towards the money in Sean’s hand.

“Consider _that_ a tip.”

Victor raises a brow and tilts his head as he juts his jaw forward.

“Wha’dya say?”

Sean raises an eyebrow at the strange bald man and opens his hand that is stuffed with money. He casually counts the bills and waves at the client he was initially with.

“See ya!”

Sean grabs his cane and beams a large smile at his new john for the night.

Victor turns to Sean’s previous client and waves goodbye to him before placing his hand on the small of Penguin’s lookalike. He nods towards the booths where Jim sat with the pro. He leans down and addresses Sean.

“Let’s get a booth.”

The assed-out man hollers back.

“Hey, I invited you here!”

Sean shrugs as he saunters out onto the main floor and points at a booth that is empty. He twirls his cane and plops down on the seat.

“Hey, mind if I get a drink? I’m pretty thirsty.”

Victor looks down at young pro who’s not seated at the same booth as he sat with Jim, which is two booths down.

“No, I don’t. Grab two.”

Zsasz removes his gloves and pockets them before pulling out a fifty. He hands it to the pro and points the booth in which he’s interested.

“When you come back, sit _there_. I’ll be waiting.”

Sean plucks the money from Victor and winks as he spins away towards the bar. He hollers back at him.

“Hey daddy, let’s dance after I get our drinks!”

“Let’s _not_. Like I said, I’ll be waiting at _that_ booth.”

Sean dances his way towards the bar as the DJ plays some house mashups of pop music bands. He reaches the bar and promptly orders two Russian Mules. He sees someone he knows and tells the bartender.

“I’ll be back! One sec!”

Victor puffs out an impatient huff as he sits in the correct booth and watches as Jim’s confidential informant or whatever the fuck this kid is flit to and fro.

Sean quickly says hello to a fellow hustler and notices as the bartender holds up his drinks. He quickly dances his way back to the bar and snags the drinks. He turns to head to the booth as he sings the song bumping through the club. A Robin Skouteris house mix of Nancy Sinatra vs Madonna, [“The Gang Bang Theory.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPCdBJMkN5A)

_“Bang Bang… shot you dead. Got my lover in the head. Bang Bang, he shot me down...”_

Ivy briskly walks to the hostess podium and tells the hostess she has an invitation as she waves her perfumed wrist in front of her nose.

“Oh, of course. Enjoy your stay.”

Ivy is dressed in red leather catsuit with a knee-length black lace cardigan. She sashays into the crowded main room and looks around. She heads to the bar to see if perhaps Victor is getting a drink. As she walks over, a young man about her age zips in front of her— _looking exactly like Oswald_.

_What the heck!?_

She does a double take as her gaze follows the impersonator. Ivy then notices that Victor is in a booth eyeing the boy. She quickly hides beside a couple of men at the bar and watches on.

Sean sets the drinks on the table and looks around at the booth.

“Why this booth? They’re all the same. They have the same view.”

Victor takes a breath and sucks his teeth.

_Man this kid talks a lot. What does Jim like so much about him?_

Victor tersely replies.

“I like _this_ one better.”

Sean shrugs and plops down on the seat. He eyes the man expectantly.

_He looks really familiar._

“So _what_ do you want to do? What kind of _fun_ do you want to have?”

Sean sips his drink as he eyes the dance floor across the way, waiting for his new client to make a request of some sort.

“Come over here and run your finger down my chest.”

Sean sets his drink down as he slides over to Victor. He places two gloved fingers at Victor’s collar then slowly runs them down over his shirt, then over his vest and downward to his belt buckle. He side glances his client as he bats his eyelashes and whispers.

“Like that?”

Victor lightly puffs an amused snort and finds a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He licks his lower lip as he watches Sean’s gliding fingers, suddenly finding himself a _lot_ more interested in the pro.

“Yeah. Like that. I saw you here with another client not long ago. I want the same thing _he_ got.”

Sean smiles brightly and laughs.

“I’m here with a lot of clients. Which one are you talking about?”

Sean downs his drink and digs out the cherry as he waits on the answer.

Ivy can’t believe her eyes. She scrunches her nose and furrows her brow. She shakes her head unsure of what she just witnessed. She then remembers she has a pair of opera glasses in her purse and quickly places them to her eyes. She hails a bartender as her gaze remains glued to the scene.

“Uh.. yes, ma’ lady?”

“Ya, gimmie a coke!”

Victor slides the second drink towards the pro.

“He’s a detective. Blonde. Blue-eyed. Strong jaw. _Great_ chin.”

Sean’s brow raises with this. His green eyes study the man for a moment. He then remarks enthusiastically.

“Oh, hey! That’s where I’ve seen you! I almost ran into you in that alley. So, you know Jim Gordon, too? That’s who you are talking about, right? I mean I don’t get any other detectives that hang around me. So I guess you mean him, huh? He’s sexy as hell! Ugh! Wish he’d come around more often!”

Sean giggles as he takes the other cup and drinks it down. He sees a friend wave at him from the dance floor and he waves back.

Victor presses his lips together.

“Yeah. That’s him.”

Victor looks to the curtains then back to the pro.

“How ‘bout you close the curtains now?”

Sean turns his attention back to his client with a small smirk. He scrambles out of the booth and grabs the edge of the curtain. He gives his client a sultry look as he slowly encompasses the booth with the thick fabric. He crosses his arms behind his back and rocks his body from side to side as he beams a large smile.

“Okay so, you want whatever I gave to Jim?”

Ivy grumbles when the curtain closes. She throws her opera glasses back into her purse and leans on the bar upset that the juicy scene is now private. She takes out her phone and calls Oswald.

“Yeah, _what_ is it _Ivy_ _?_ ”

“Victor is at the Foxglove with someone who looks exactly like you. It’s creepy and weird as hell.”

Oswald chokes on his drink and coughs for a second. Then croaks out.

“ _What?_   What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s at a booth and they both look really cozy. The man that looks like you had his hand on Victor, looked intimate. Can’t see anything now, the boy closed the curtains. By the way, this place is _gross_. Can I follow him after he leaves here?”

Ivy grabs her drink and looks around as she crinkles her nose.

“Ivy… that’s… uh. _No_. Keep _following him_ and call me when you have information that’s _useable!_ I don’t know what to do with _that!_ ”

Ivy closes her phone and huffs as she turns her attention to the Foxglove floor.

Victor replies to the pro.

“Yeah. _Exactly_ what Jim got.”

Sean plops onto the seat and scoots in close. He wraps his arms around Victor’s shoulders and purrs.

“I’ve always had a thing for you.”

Sean leans in to kiss Victor.

Victor pictures Jim and his body stirs. He takes his hand and reaches behind the pro’s neck to draw him in for a kiss, thinking of Jim the entire time. He opens his mouth wide and pushes his tongue into pro’s mouth. His brow wrinkles in response to the lingering tart of the pro’s cocktails, so different from Jim’s bourbon or beer—especially his beloved spicy ale, Devil’s Backbone.

Sean slowly starts crawling onto Victor’s lap as he deepens the kiss. He then pulls back and beams the man a large smile.

“He then felt me up, while biting my neck. Mmmm.. and _thrusting_ his hips into me. He’s such a great kisser, but other than that, we talked. No real hanky panky to speak of. Too bad for me I guess, but it was the easiest two hundred I’ve ever made. Oh, _wait_. Hey, I’ve seen you go in and out of that place, where Penguin is. I heard that prostitutes will need to have a license now to work. Is that true? At the docks in that old fish processing plant?”

Victor looks up briefly with frustration, but business (after all) is business. He puffs out a sigh and nods.

“Yeah, but prostitution requires a smaller license. Go to the shanty town by the old paper mill. The bigger stuff is handled at the docks by the old fish processing plant.”

Victor loosens the knot on the pro’s tie and unbuttons his shirt as he answers, trying to ignore how much paler the young man’s skin is in comparison to Jim. He runs his palms up the pros thighs, grabs his haunches and pulls him closer. Zsasz leans into the man’s neck and sinks in his teeth. Victor’s body charges, imagining Jim on his lap and begins flicking his tongue and grinding against the smaller man.

Sean is about to say something else but loses his train of thought as soon as his neck is met with teeth.

“Mmmm… yeah, _like that_. Jim bit me and grabbed at me.”

Sean pulls off his gloves and caresses his client’s head, smiling to himself. It’s all he’s been wanting to do since laying his eyes on that smooth dome.

Victor closes his eyes and ignores the fact the pro doesn’t feel or react the way Jim does, but it’s the closest he can get to Jim and, for _now_ anyway, it’s enough. His body aches the more he thinks of Jim… Jim’s _mouth,_ Jim’s _scent,_ Jim’s _body_ and Jim’s _heat_. Soon, his actions become more impatient and demanding.

Zsasz aggressively grinds against Sean, his length rapidly swelling and hardening. He reaches behind the pro’s neck, pulls his hair and crushes his lips to him.

Sean can feel teeth hitting his gums and teeth. He tries to pull away from the rough kiss as he clutches tightly to his john.

Victor takes his hands and slides them beneath the man’s thighs to hoist him onto the table, not once removing his mouth. Once Zsasz has the hustler where he wants him, he brusquely unbuttons the remaining buttons on pro’s dress shirt until he arrives at the unexpected waistcoat.

_Jim doesn’t wear..._

Victor suddenly stops himself, pulls back and looks down at the young man seated before him on the table. He gazes into the pale eyes and skin, regarding the raven hair and flushed cheeks with a spray of freckles.

 _He’s not Jim_.

Zsasz clenches his jaw and swallows down the lump in his throat.

Sean looks up and raises an eyebrow.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Victor presses his lips together and curtly shakes his head before answering.

“Nothin’.”

Victor pulls out another three hundred bucks. He takes the pro’s hand and places the money into it as he nods towards the man's getup.

“You uh… might wanna think about a busier tie and waistcoat. Penguin’s flashier. Nice job on the shoes though.”

Victor strides up to the curtain and pulls it back, leaving the disheveled pro seated on the table without another word. He makes his way through and out of the club without bothering to say goodbye to Fayizah.

Ivy is drinking her second soda, bored out of her mind. She doesn’t understand this sort of establishment. She finds it over the top and depraved. People all half naked or completely naked, traipsing around lost in some weird illusion.

She makes a barf face when a few old men in leather straps and collars go shuffling after their Dominatrix.

“Gross… ewww.”

She glances over in time to see Victor striding to the exit. She looks over at the booth; the young man has some buttons off and is folding up money and placing it into his suit jacket.

Ivy quickly exits after Victor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found it challenging to land on a title and write endnotes for this chapter. I finally circled around to the title “Oubliette” because Zsasz unintentionally falls into a trap door of painful memories the moment he sets foot inside Jim’s apartment, only to head for The Foxglove and make matters worse (the way my dumb-&ss would). 
> 
> It reminds me of Radiohead’s “Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors” from their f*cking genius Amnesiac album, especially that delicious part (at 2:16-2:31) “...and there are trap doors, that you can’t come back from”.
> 
> Zsasz is so unaccustomed to having feelings and growing attached, he believes he can just eat, f*ck or kill his way through it all. I figured he’d try (in some misguided way) to be closer to Jim, hence approaching Sean at the club (just like my dumb-&ss would. Spoiler alert: I’m writing myself in my youth, just killery, male and anti-social—but y’all probably figured that out already).
> 
> Y’all know I reference sh!t tons of Joy Division (winks at Deya), my initial working title for this chapter before renaming it. They’re one of my all-time favorite groups. (Mark my words, kids. Their debut album, Unknown Pleasures, will be recognized as one of the greatest/most influential rock albums of the 20th century someday for ushering in post punk. I’m callin’ it now.) 
> 
> Their name comes from the novella “House of Dolls” about women in WWII concentration camp brothels forced into sexual slavery for Nazi soldiers, guards and favored prisoners (Freudenabteilung “Joy Division”. I think their song “No Love Lost” has content from that book, but don’t quote me on that). I selected the name because of Zsasz’s Jewish heritage and Sean’s prostitution in Boxcutter—not just for my love the band I swear. ;’) 
> 
> Coincidentally, those are the very Boxcutter chapters referenced in this part of the story: Zsasz tailing Jim (chapter 3), The Foxglove and after (12 and 13). Oh and honestly. Was it just me or was Ivy Pepper making a barf face at The Foxglove like the funniest thing ever, “This place is gross!”?! :D LOL
> 
> Last but not least, thank you kindly for the read, y’all. Means a lot. }8> -o-
> 
> ______
> 
> I get a kick out of reading a whole Zsasz chapter. Jessica frets over being TOO self indulgent with Victor. I say...GIMMIE ME MORE!!!
> 
> When I read this chapter is when I started scheming (Yes as far back as this Jess) on getting Jessica to go in on the collab with me. To go from making this an all Jim POV to us intergrating the POVs into another story.
> 
> I love the melancholy of the whole scene when Victor went back to Jim’s pad. I clutched my chest and stroked the screen when he saw that Jim put his crazy, stalking, psychopath ass on block.
> 
> This is just a personal observation but many times I felt like 100% douchebag when writing Jim. Don’t get me wrong, the dude has feelings for Victor but like always, his duty comes first. The last time duty took a back seat to his desires everything blew up in his face: Penguin’s Pax, the confrontation one chapter back, Harvey mistrusting him. Yeah, Jim learned that going against his nature results in crap he didn’t bargain for. Also icky and yucky feelings...ew gross!
> 
> Also, I get a kick outta writing Ivy. Woman-child. Yeah I feel that on a personal level. She falls right behind writing Harvey for me.
> 
> Anyways, like what the hey hey, ZSASZ!!!??? Going to my favorite prostitute!? *glares in detective* 
> 
> PS: The link to the mash up of Sinatra and Madonna comes with a mashup video of Kill Bill and Madonna. I for one love mash-up songs. Robin Skouteris is one of my favorite mash up/remix DJs. Check out "Power Spirit" if you love a SERIOUSLY great mash-up. Prodigy, Aretha Franklin, Metallica and Nirvana. The video is also kick ass.
> 
> ~FC


	5. By Any Means Necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor, wanting to bury his misery, dives into temporary distractions. Jim and Harvey discover that the Pax Penguina rules have changed drastically. Jim runs into an old acquaintance and agrees to a date, but finds his thoughts still linger on Zsasz.

—>z<—

Victor is hounded by memory after memory of Jim on his ride back from The Foxglove. After arriving home, he walks to his quarters and notices Xochitl standing in Ursula’s doorway. The wiry, mohawked latina has her arms crossed and a wolfish smile tugging at her mouth.

He arches a brow and tilts his head before making his way over. The closer he gets, the more he hears the sounds of struggling. He slowly grins and shakes his head as he approaches. He can already picture it.

_Ursula and Demaris are wrestling again._

Xochitl’s so distracted she doesn’t even hear Victor until he’s about a foot away. She takes a quick glance at him and smiles, barely tearing her eyes away from the spectacle.

“Your timing couldn’t be better. They _just_ started.”

 

 

Victor bites his lower lip and turns to peek inside. Ursula has Demaris’ head in the crook of her right arm. Demaris’ large dark curls fall in her face as Ursula locks her head in place, clamping her left hand on her right wrist. The headlock engages Ursula’s pecs, further accentuating her ample pulchritude.

Demaris counters the maneuver by dropping her weight to displace Ursula’s center of gravity, flexing her quads, hamstrings and glutes. Xochitl and Victor exchange appreciative glances at the sight of ‘Maris’ powerful thighs, hips and voluptuous ass. Victor leans towards Xochitl.

“You know they’re just doing this ‘cause you’re watching, right?”

Xochitl shrugs and smiles back knowingly.

“Yeah, I know. But I’m not proud.

 Victor chuckles and shakes his head as she continues.

“Besides, they got _drinks,_ too.”

Xochitl nods down to the small table by the door with some tequila, el Abandonado Extra Añejo. There are also some glasses and cut limes. She pours herself a shot and raises it to Victor.

“¡Salud!”

He puffs out an amused snort and nods towards the bottle.

“Hey. Pour me one too. Make it a double.”

Xochitl blinks.

“Uh… sure. Okay.”

She pours his drink and cautiously hands him the glass.

He takes it and raises it to his mouth. He swirls and inhales before taking the first swallow. It’s been a long time since he’s had any liquor.

_Not since Tsunade took that bullet for me._

Xochitl warily watches his brow furrow as he acclimates to his drink. Zsasz draws back his lips and swirls the tumbler again. He briefly sucks his teeth and swallows down the remaining tequila before setting down the glass to pour himself another.

Xochitl watches on remembering the last time Zsasz drank after Tsunade died. She didn’t really know him back then. He’d just recruited her and she thought _everybody_ drank. He didn’t seem to act any differently than he did any other time. He never went for beer— _only_ liquor and _always_ neat. It was almost as if he wanted to feel the effects sooner than later.

It wasn’t until he moved past her death and Xoch _really_ got to know Zsasz that she learned he _hated_ having his senses dulled and reflexes compromised. He always wanted to fully experience every aspect of life: good, neutral or bad. Victor also felt alcohol and painkillers made him less effective, be it in matters of business _or_ pleasure.

She recalls the time he got shot outside of Hobb’s campaign office. He refused any and all pain medication when Glowski (a friend and former Army medic) dug the bullet out of him.

She watched on in disbelief as he refused even a local anesthetic, insisting he could take it. He later hurled an offered bottle of pain pills across the room despite his obvious misery. She could barely stand the sounds he made and began bringing him a bottle of scotch until he hardened his face at her and growled.

 _“I_ **_said_ ** _I could handle it. Get. that._ **_away_ ** _from me.”_

Xochitl surmised he was punishing himself for a perceived failure, but Tasha told her he simply avoided alcohol and pain pills because he felt intoxicants compromised him and made him weak. _Vulnerable_. That’s when she realized that Zsasz only drank when he was in a bad place—a _really_ bad place. Xochitl rubs her hand down her face.

_Oh fuck. He’s miserable._

The wrestling women now realize Victor has joined her in the doorway. They immediately stop grappling with each other and smile suggestively at him. The mohawked latina looks up at Victor and rolls her eyes. She shakes her head and puffs out an annoyed snort.

“Dammit, Victor. _Fuck_ _you_.”

He smiles down at Xoch, grabs the back of her neck and aggressively pecks the side of her head before she leaves in a huff. On her way back to her quarters, she briefly thinks to herself.

_Maybe he’s not as bad off as we thought. At least he still wants to fuck._

Ursula and Demaris eagerly approach him. They reach for his arms and pull him into the room. He removes his holster and places it on Urs’ vanity, his grin wide as the women undress him. He enthusiastically dives into their soft brown skin and curves, relishing their scent and sounds, their impatient mouths and hands.

The tequila also helps him forget Jim—for a little while anyway. He loses himself in the curves of Demaris’ ass and Ursula’s pendulous breasts. He revels in the soft faint kisses of their nether mouths as they straddle him. Victor hungrily kisses soft full lips and probes his tongue and fingers as far as he can into their mouths and between their legs.

The effects of tequila eventually fade as he stands at the side of the bed. Ursula lies before him face up with her knees bent. Her head is barely hanging off the edge, just below his junk. Demaris straddles Ursula with her face between her legs and her ass held high, her honey pot slick and wet—just _begging_ to be taken.

The moment Ursula takes him into her mouth, he recalls the first time Jim took him into his.

 _“Scoot up. Bring that cock to my mouth.”_  
  
As he looks down at Ursula’s honeyed skin, long straight hair and painted lips sucking him off, he remembers looking down at the sight of his dick in Jim’s mouth.

_She’s not Jim._

Victor reaches down to capture her taut brown peaks and tease them between his thumbs and index fingers. He cups her ample breasts in his hand and luxuriates in them, trying in vain to forget Jim in her ravenous mouth, contrasting skin tone and vastly different body.

When that doesn’t work, he slips out of her mouth and takes Demaris’ ass in both hands. He bends down, nudges her lips apart and slips his tongue inside her. She shudders and thrusts her hips back to meet him, lapping more urgently at Ursula, who moans with approval. Demaris’ scent, sounds and slick ribbons distract him for awhile, especially as he flicks his tongue against her delectable clit and laps at the nectar collecting in her hood.

Zsasz’s cock soon twitches with excitement. He grabs at her hips, moaning as he enters her. Luscious wet folds like liquid velvet swallow him… soft… warm… _exquisite_ _…_

_...but not Jim._

Zsasz presses his eyes and lips shut. He conjures the image of Jim bent before him, offering his ass—atop Jim’s bed, in Bullock’s office and that motel shower on the way to Jim’s mom’s… Victor digs his fingers into Demaris’ ass and pounds harder. The rhythmic smacking reminds him of Jim’s demanding growl in that shower stall:

_“Like that—harder! Give it to me!”_

Victor feels himself slipping… thrusting harder and faster... shuddering…. He bursts with a groan and a long protracted push. Zsasz tightly presses his eyes and mouth shut, keeping Jim’s image firmly fixed in his mind and Jim’s name strangled in his throat.

When he opens his eyes, he finds Tasha standing in the doorway staring at him. Her arms are crossed and her brow is knit with concern. He presses his lips together, blinks and briefly averts his eyes before returning her gaze.

_Tash knows I’m fucked up over Jim._

She looks to the cobalt blue bottle and puffs out a worried sigh. She uncrosses her arms and turns to leave. After she walks away, Victor pulls out of Demaris, bends down to nip and smack at her ass before kissing Ursula and joining them in bed, working hard to keep his grin wide and face as easy as possible.

 

—>j<—

It’s early evening and Jim is in the middle of a hostage rescue. The officers on the scene have two of the four suspects apprehended. The others fled the scene with two women from a charity show at downtown square. The suspects were there to sack the rich participants of their jewelry and money, but were met with opposition from a few of the security guards. Two guards were confirmed dead. Jim is on foot chasing the two remaining suspects as they flee with struggling captives.

Jim sprints down a road; he can hear screaming and gunfire. He runs towards the sound. He rounds an alley and sees one of the hostages down on the ground. She is wounded but alive. The suspect aims to finish her off as she tries crawling away. Jim is quicker and claims the aggressor with one clean shot to the head. The woman screams but quickly realizes her tormentor is now on the ground dead.

Jim runs up to her.

“GCPD! Stay still! Let me see. Where did you get shot?”

The woman blubbers but pulls it together long enough to wail.

“My back! I… I can’t feel my legs!”

Jim tries to get her to stay still.

“Don’t move.”

Jim hears another scream and a man shouting not far away.

“Stay still. I’m going to call for an ambulance. I’ll be right back. I promise!”

Jim opens his phone as he runs down the alley. He calls Officer Romero who is also on the scene. He tells her the location of the severely wounded hostage.

He hears commotion from a construction site just past the alley. A man is growling.

“Owwwww!! You fuckin’ cunt! I’m gonna kill you!”

Jim approaches the scene with his weapon drawn. An older woman in a sleek formal dress is beating her captor with one of her heels. The man delivers a punch. The woman falls to the ground, but isn’t out. He has a knife in his hand and is about to descend on her. Jim takes the shot and blows the man’s hand into a bloody stump. The suspect falls to the ground, wailing in agony.

The older woman peers over at Jim in disbelief, but soon a huge smile graces her face. She gets to her feet, a large shiner developing on her left eye. The woman delivers a swift kick to the thrashing man’s ribs.

Jim runs over and flips the wounded suspect on his stomach and digs his right knee into his back.

“You’re under arrest!”

Jim pulls out his phone and calls the EMT, along with the other officers currently assisting the wounded woman in the alley. Once the situation is all contained, Jim assists the older woman back to where her friends are waiting outside downtown square. He has her arm over his shoulder as he supports her, her ankle twisted in the scuffle with her attacker.

“Thank you, Detective Gordon. You’re so sweet to escort me back. I fear this eye will be puffy for weeks. I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a model.”

Jim glances at her and smiles.

“You should invest in getting more of those shoes. They hold up as weapons.”

The woman emits a chuckle that seems to originate from her belly. It’s throaty and full, pleasant.

“Well, I will oversee the construction of future shoes based on _this experience_. I designed _these_ heels.”

Jim nods.

“Sleek, sexy and _lethal_.”

She chortles at his description. From the gathering crowds, her friends run over to her. A few of them cry and gasp at the state she’s in.

The woman assures her friends she is fine. Jim leaves her in their hands, prepared to head back to the precinct when he hears a man call out to him.

“Detective Jim Gordon!”

In an Italian accent. Jim’s ears perk.

The detective looks around and spots a familiar face towering over in the crowd. Jim is dumbstruck but blurts out.

“Gabrielle!?”

Jim takes in the sight of the handsome model in formal wear cutting his way towards him. A warm smile graces his beautiful full-lipped mouth. His beard is kept the same: tight and tapered. His thick lustrous locks in a quiff hairstyle that showcases his perfectly manicured brows. His natural “bedroom eyes” are sparkling as he draws closer. Jim can pick up the cologne he’s wearing too. A mixture of the scent he wore before, Ambergris, Mysore sandalwood, lemon verbena, but this time, a hint of iris.

Jim finds himself getting hot as blood rushes throughout his body. Gabrielle stands before him and extends his hand in greeting. Jim smiles and shakes it.

“It must be fate to run into you again, detective.”

Jim raises an eyebrow and playfully jabs.

“Well, technically we could have been running into each other more often, but I think I remember calling you and a swift rejection.”

Gabrielle nods; he offers an apologetic look.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Jim smiles and shakes his head.

“Don’t be. It’s okay, really. Well, not to sound rude, but I must go. I have a lot of work ahead of me after this.”

Gabrielle nods but blurts out to the retreating detective.

“Jim! Wait.”

Jim halts in his tracks and eyes Gabrielle.

“Can I treat you to dinner tonight? Please? As a thank you.”

Jim hesitates, but he is very hungry and wants more of Gabrielle’s company—if only to feel a connection with someone. Jim nods and adds.

“I get off work in a couple of hours. Come by the GCPD.”

Gabrielle smiles really big and states in all seriousness.

“I will be there. I _promise_.”

Jim smiles; he can feel his heart race. Something he hasn’t felt when thinking of anyone besides Victor. He nods and races back to his car. On the drive to the precinct, his mood is better—lighter. He is beside himself with excitement at the thought of spending time with Gabrielle. He wants to feel normal again, to feel like he can move past Victor.

A hazy memory manifests of Victor’s sleeping form under his body on the morning after the assault on Oswald’s club. A perfectly serene moment. Jim shakes his head and swallows thickly.

_Or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself to move on because I don’t feel ready._

______

A couple of hours later, Jim and the two officers who assisted him in the hostage crisis are in Harvey’s office. Jim is in the middle of explaining what happened.

“They killed two guards, shot one woman in the back and nearly killed another. Good thing she had some fight in her. She only came away with a black eye and a sprained ankle!”

The other officers nod in agreement with Jim. Officer Romero pipes up and hands Harvey the license the suspects were carrying. She points at the card.

“Sir, they have a license to attack the show but look here... it's new. B.A.M.N. It means “By Any Means Necessary”.

Officer Romero looks at the detective. His brow is now unfurrowed and his eyes widen as the words sink in. She continues.

“I think Penguin is changing the agreement. The Pax Penguina now allows for murder if one is to read into the loose terminology.”

Harvey runs his hands down his face and mumbles.

“Officers will you excuse us? I would like to speak to the detective alone.”

Once the two leave, Jim sits in the chair across from Harvey at his desk. He feels like a husk, rendered useless and at a complete loss as to how to make it all better.

_I know how I can make it all better. I should just put a bullet through that little asshole’s head then string him up by his feet and gut him like a pig._

Jim can feel his rage beginning to simmer. He wants to exact revenge for the murdered security guards and for the innocent women terrorized by those licensed criminals. He takes a slow deep breath to calm himself. He huffs, his voice gravelly and biting.

_“Did you know?”_

Harvey flashes his eyes at Jim and retorts.

“No! I swear!”

Jim can feel his face tighten, his throat slamming shut as he hangs his head. He states in barely a whisper.

“Those security guards have families, small children. Their fathers won’t be home tonight because we allowed this. _We allowed this, Harvey._ ”

Jim quickly stands; he can feel his whole body tremble.

“Please end this. Don’t let those men walk.”

Harvey shakes his head, too ashamed to look Jim in the eyes.

“It’s too late. Penguin has the commissioner and the mayor on his side. They’re in on the deal too.”

Jim inhales a huge quick breath and shakes his head.

“Fuck.”

Jim leaves Harvey’s office and slowly shuffles into the locker room to shower. He wants his bad mood to lift, but finds it near impossible. He tries to shake it off and focus on the evening ahead. He wants to spend time with Gabrielle and hopes his soured disposition won’t ruin the evening.

After Harvey completes some paperwork, he gathers his belongings to head home. He notices a tall, good looking man wandering up to his office appearing lost.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Detective Jim Gordon.”

Harvey strokes his beard and says.

“He was here just a few minutes ago. He might be in the locker room showering. His desk is right there if you want to wait for him. I’ll go let him know your here. What’s your name?”

The man smiles really big and extends his hand for a shake.

“My name is Gabrielle.”

Harvey nods as he shakes the offered hand.

“I’m Captain Bullock. Have a seat.”

Harvey makes his way to the locker room. Jim is in front of the sinks storing his wooden comb and hair waxes into a pouch. Harvey raises an eyebrow at how nicely Jim is dressed.

_Hold the phone… Is this a date?_

Harvey analyzes the fancy, out-on-the-town attire. Jim is wearing a dark blue button up, dark gray slacks, a single button matching dress jacket and dark leather dress shoes. He’s shaved and perfectly coiffed. Harvey can even smell a bit of cologne on him. He smirks and announces his presence.

“There’s a gentleman named Gabrielle out there waitin’ for ya. If I wasn’t such a staunchly heterosexual man, I would even say he’s hot.”

Jim turns to Harvey a little shocked at the small playful banter. It’s been a long time since he and Harvey talked to each other that wasn’t in the form of shouting or growls. He finds he’s unable to reciprocate lighthearted discussion. He turns to get into his locker and mutters.

“Thanks. See you Monday.”

Harvey nods and takes in a breath. He watches as Jim digs into his locker. He also notices it’s packed with clothes and shoes. Harvey raises an eyebrow. He wants to talk to Jim; he wants to assure him he didn’t approve of the changes. He wants his old friend back. Harvey just scratches the back of his head and responds.

“Yeah, see ya.”

Jim collects his coat and hurries to meet Gabrielle. Jim notices that he’s at his desk, talking to officers Romero and Peterson. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight of the gorgeous man waiting just for him. Gabrielle is dressed similarly, only he’s in a ruby jewel-tone button up, single button dark navy blue jacket with white pocket square, matching pants and completed with white dress shoes. The man’s body is still impeccable, muscular but lean and he knows how to dress it.

Jim smiles really big when he approaches.

“Excuse us, ladies. Gabrielle, hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?”

The two female officers shuffle off eyeing the both of them. Gabrielle shakes his head and smiles really big. His dark eyes taking in the sight before him. He states with a small purr.

“You are so incredibly handsome. I have reservations to this Mediterranean restaurant that’s in downtown. Pasha.”

Jim nods a bit impressed. Pasha is usually booked and one has to reserve months in advance.

“ _The_ Pasha restaurant that never has openings?”

Gabrielle smiles and nods.

“That’s the one. I know the owner. I hope you are hungry; the servings are large and well worth the food coma later.”

They exit the precinct doors but not before Gabrielle grabs his umbrella while Jim dons his coat. Gabrielle opens the large umbrella and places it directly over Jim; there’s a soft rainfall coming down. He beams his date a warm smile.

“I would hate for your perfection to get soaked.”

Jim laughs and walks a bit closer. He looks up at his companion and retorts.

“What about you?”

“My car isn’t far. Do you have to be into work tomorrow?”

Jim gives him a sly smirk and says.

“Cutting right to the chase I see. Will the mood of the evening depend on how I answer that?”

Gabrielle smacks his forehead realizing his question seemed overtly suggestive.

“No, I’m sorry of course not. You are my guest and this is for _thanking you_. Forgive me for sounding like I have ulterior motives, I was just curious.”

Jim laughs and shakes his head.

“No. I don’t have to be into work tomorrow.”

Gabrielle smirks and glances at Jim who is eyeing him. He busts out laughing then confesses.

“Okay, I’m not going to lie. I’m a bit excited that you don’t have to leave me so soon like last time.”

Jim chuckles and retorts playfully.

“You are getting _way_ ahead of yourself.”

“Maybe, but can you really blame for wanting an evening alone with you?”

Jim can feel his face flush with heat; his face cracks into a large smile. He peers up at his companion.

Gabrielle stops at his car and opens the door for Jim. He hurries to the driver’s side and gets in. He turns in his seat and says with a mock serious tone.

“I will be doing my best to seduce you throughout the evening. Just so you are aware.”

Jim laughs and shrugs.

“I will be doing my best to act unimpressed.”

As they pull away, Jim is already conflicted with moving on. He knows he should. It scares him that if he does spend the night with Gabrielle that he’ll only want Victor. He can feel it. This may be too soon.

______

 

Gabrielle and Jim are seated outside. The veranda has cover overhead and several fireplaces roaring with large fires. A white table cloth, candles and soft music with Mediterranean-influenced instrumentals set the romantic atmosphere.

Gabrielle is sitting close to Jim as they both talk and eat.

“I don’t know how you do it, Jim. To face danger and so often! You are so heroic and I admire you greatly. I would be remiss to let you slip through my fingers again.”

Their desserts arrive along with their refill of wine.

Once the waiters leave, Jim smiles at the gorgeous man who seems to have moved closer and closer since they finished their main meal. He smiles and shakes his head at Gabrielle’s statement.

“You wouldn’t like me after you got to know me. I almost never have free time. I work long hours and I tend to push people away. You would grow tired of that.”

Gabrielle lays his arm around Jim’s chair and leans in.

“You only say such things because maybe, _just maybe,_ you may like being with me. I understand how difficult schedules can be on relationships. I lost a couple of close men in my life because of my career.”

Jim nods and sighs. He turns his head to look into Gabrielle’s eyes.

“I just got out of a hard relationship. I still feel him and it still hurts. It’s only been a little over a month. I don’t know if I’m ready to get over him. I’m sorry.”

Gabrielle smiles warmly and rubs Jim’s shoulder.

“No. Don’t be sorry. I’m being selfish and greedy. All I know is I want you and I didn’t stop to ask if you were willing. But I do hope I’m still allowed the opportunity to win you over?”

Jim smiles and nods.

Gabrielle flashes him a large smile. He brings his other hand and gently caresses Jim’s face.

Jim briefly closes his eyes and ever so slightly leans into the soft touch. Even now, he still feels Victor. He swallows and opens his eyes. Gabrielle’s brow softens as his eyes track back and forth.

Gabrielle drops his hand and says with enthusiasm.

“Please, let’s dive into our desserts. I think you will agree it’s the best tiramisu in all of Gotham!”

Jim smiles as the tall man slices a big piece and brings it to Jim’s mouth. He allows the forkful in and does his best to chew the ample portion.

“Good, yes?”

Jim nods, feeling the corners of his mouth covered in the fluffy cream. He notices from the corner of his eye Gabrielle quickly lean in. He licks the corner of Jim’s mouth, swiping the fluffy cream clean off. Gabrielle moans ever so softly.

Jim halts his chewing. His body reacts to the intimate moment with a flush of heat. His cock stirs and begins to ache. He hesitantly starts chewing again and swallows. He wipes his mouth and looks at Gabrielle who is actively eating his own slice.

Jim clears his throat, wanting to gloss over the liberty his companion took. He asks.

“How long are you in Gotham for?”

Gabrielle finishes his bite and responds as he leans in.

“I leave at the end of the month for Italy to visit family.”

The arm around Jim’s chair shifts. He feels Gabrielle’s hand on the back of his neck; his body stiffens. Victor would often place his hand on Jim’s neck before kissing him or when he wanted him close. Softly stroking fingers begin to caress the back of his head. He turns to glance at Gabrielle, only to see his lips descend to his mouth. He quickly looks away, thwarting Gabrielle’s kiss. The hand on the back of his neck grips down; Jim stiffens again with the pressure. He feels the hand begin to pull; Gabrielle is trying to get him to come in closer, to turn around. Jim begins to shift in his chair uncomfortably. His heart is racing; he twists his body as his hand pries Gabrielle off. He peers down in his lap and states.

“Stop it. I’m not ready for anything.”

Gabrielle removes his arm from around Jim. He leans forward on the table, bringing both hands up to clasp them together. He curses under his breath for a second. He bows his head; both thumbs rub against his wrinkled brow. He turns his head towards Jim and whispers.

“I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t messed up so much you want to run from me.”

Jim scoffs ever so slightly and shakes his head.

“I’m not running. I’m just not ready for _that_ just yet.”

Gabrielle smiles and plays with the corners of his napkin next to his plate. He glances over at Jim.

“This man, he must have been almost _perfect_.”

Jim furrows his brow as he looks ahead.

“No. He was the opposite of perfect. He was all _wrong_ for me. But at the same time, I didn’t care. It nearly destroyed me; there are times I think it still will. I feel _lost_ without him. We were all wrong for each other but he knew me... _deeply._ ”

Jim looks away feeling ridiculous for his confession. He feels a warm hand on his own. He stares at Gabrielle’s hand. The gesture feels wrong, not because it’s Gabrielle but because the pain he can’t seem to work through involves Victor and _his_ hand. He stares at the olive-toned skin.

Not smooth.

Not pale.

Jim slips his fingers between Gabrielle’s.

Not _Victor_.

Jim swallows.

 _Not_ … _hurting_.

The memory of Victor’s grasp coupled with his threat plays in his head. The harsh tone of his voice. His hand wrenching. Shocked. But not shocked. Jim, unable to respond in that moment, responds now. He feels searing hot tears race down his face. His face contorts, the pain in his chest beyond bearable. He hangs his head and covers his face.

Without hesitation, Gabrielle wraps both arms around him and whispers.

“Let’s get out of here. Come with me back to my hotel; it has an amazing cozy bar on the roof. They keep the lighting low so you can enjoy all the lights in Gotham from the fantastic height.”

Jim nods as he melts into the large comforting arms; he inhales a ragged breath. Gabrielle kisses the top of his head and says.

“Stay here while I go pay.”

He releases Jim and hurries off.

Jim takes a deep breath in and does his best to compose himself. He’s never broken down and cried over anything except when his father died. He starts shivering; he peels his coat from the back of his chair and puts it on. He digs into the inside pocket and takes out his phone.

_Stop. Stop looking at those text messages._

Jim inhales a sharp breath as a few sobs grip his entire body. He hangs his head, desperately trying to stop himself from crying. Once the tightness subsides, he quickly wipes his face, thankful that Gabrielle isn’t there to see his tiny meltdown.

His hand instinctively goes to an inside pocket where the boxcutter is stashed. He brings it out to look at it; he holds it close to his chest as he flips it over a couple of times. He quickly looks out for Gabrielle as he lays it on his lap. He slowly retracts the blade, the same blade Victor used to cut him. When he holds it, he feels closer to _him_.

He notices Gabrielle shake hands with the owner and makes his way back. Jim quickly stores the stolen token and gets up from the table.

______

  
On top of Westchester Resort at the rooftop bar:

Jim and Gabrielle are sitting on a leather couch sipping on whiskey. Jim is resting his head on Gabrielle’s shoulder, their hands holding each other, fingers intertwined. Jim often staring at their joined digits remembering how this simple act unnerved Victor at first.

The small gesture renders Jim awestruck. It has been a long time since he’s been touched, comforted, and spoken to sweetly. His mind constantly preoccupied with the hostile work environment at the GCPD and his misery over Victor. His body _starved_ for basic human contact.

Jim’s grasp on Gabrielle’s hand tightens ever so slightly, scared of losing the warmth. Jim adjusts his head on Ricci’s shoulder to where he’s closer to his neck. He feels Gabrielle lean his cheek on top of his head as he continues to speak of lands far from Gotham.

They stay till the bar closes at three in the morning. Returning to the elevators, Jim turns to Gabrielle and asks.

“Mind if we head to your room?”

Gabrielle nods as he wraps an arm over his shoulder.

“You can have my bed. There’s a large couch I can sleep on.”

Jim looks up at him and smiles.

“You can be in the bed with me. I would appreciate you holding me. Unless that’s too much…”

“If you wish, I will be the best cuddler you have ever known.”

Jim walks into Gabrielle’s sumptuous suite. It has a living room that goes out onto a large balcony that overlooks Gotham Central Park. The bedroom is to the right of the living room.

Jim heads to the view.

“This is a nice room! The view— _amazing!_ ”

Gabrielle takes his jacket off and lays it over the backrest of the couch. He stands next to Jim and nods. Jim looks at him and heads to the bedroom.

Jim takes in the king size bed laden with pillows and a large comforter. He removes his coat and jacket, laying them on a chair. He sees Gabrielle quickly strip down to his boxers. He hops into the bed and leans back onto the headboard; he’s smiling a boyish grin at Jim.

Jim removes everything but his boxers. Gabrielle is beckoning him to his arms. Jim slides onto the bed and scoots in close as Gabrielle unfurls an extra comforter at the foot of the bed. They both settle in; Gabrielle’s arms encompass the nestling man. Jim tucks himself into the crook of Gabrielle’s neck, his body pressed flush. He smiles as he breathes in his wonderful scent. He slowly slips a leg over Gabrielle’s thigh. In turn, the taller man nudges his leg in between Jim’s legs. Jim sighs and closes his eyes.

“Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome my handsome detective.”

Jim lets out an amused snort. He feels fingertips lightly stroke his back. Before he knows it, he is out like a light.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have introduced a number of people back in Jim’s life for the date but I think keeping with this AU I had to go back to Gabrielle. Had Victor actually killed him in “Boxcutter”, then I would have brought back Lee. But if that had happened I think this entire story would be 100% different. Because I ain’t giving Lee no small chump change part if I brought her in.
> 
> I love pain; I love misery. This chapter gave me a huge helping of both. *wipes corners of mouth with napkin*
> 
> But that was just the appetizer; the main course is yet to come. 
> 
> ~FC
> 
> ______
> 
> Sh!t, y’all. This chapter and these two miserable men. Victor tries to do anything but remember Jim and only accomplishes this opposite. (Again: classic behavior from my misspent twenties and thirties.) Oh my Zsaszy.
> 
> And Jim’s pain, y’all. Holy f*ck knuckles. I’ve read this chapter a number of times already ‘cause I spend time editing and sh!t, but believe me when I tell you it gets me every phuccin’ time. Jim’s pain regarding Victor at that dinner with… “him”... (*cue my angry Zsasz face over Excelsior 865*). But seriously though, that scene when Jim loses his sh!t in the restaurant? *ugly cries*
> 
> Gabrielle was introduced in Boxcutter chapter 6. Unnerved hand holding Victor happened in the final chapter (21).
> 
> In happier news, I phuccin’ love Jim saving them women at the opening scene of his part of the story: “Sleek, sexy and lethal.” <— Is it any wonder why I’m so crazy about Jim Gordon? Oh and even my begrudging Zsaszy butt has to hand it to Bullock. That crack about “questioning his staunchly heterosexual credentials” was fan-f*cking-tastic! 
> 
> }8> -o-


	6. The Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zsasz seeks out Jim only to discover someone else has the detective’s attention. To compound matters, Oswald and Fries have taken to berating Victor over perceived failures. Fed up with Gordon’s insolence, Oswald wants to send a message and for Zsasz to be the messenger.

—>z<—

Zsasz sucks in a huge breath and squares his jaw. He _can’t_ stand it anymore. He _has_ to see Jim. The wait has been excruciating. _Never_ in his days has he found himself so preoccupied with someone and so unwilling… so _unable_ to move on, his colossal pride— _humbled_.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, but hopes to figure it out by the time he gets to the precinct.

He mounts his Yamaha V-Max and speeds to the GCPD. As luck would have it, he zips into a parking space about a half block away, with hopes of seeing Jim and he _does_.

His heart leaps when he sees Jim exit the front entrance in his coat.

And then he sees _him:_

_Hot Italian Model._

 

__

 

 _The fucking coward who didn’t have the balls to nut up and even_ **_admit_ ** _he knew Jim._

Excelsior 865 grins as he holds an umbrella over Jim. Victor narrows his eyes as he watches Jim move closer to the man, laughing and smiling up at _him._

_The way he used to with me._

 

 

Despite the pangs in his chest, Zsasz cannot tear his gaze away. He watches Hot Italian Model open the passenger door of _that fucking Tesla_ for Jim. After the two men leave, Victor waits to determine if Excelsior 865 has a security detail. He’s well-acquainted with most of the security in Gotham and, last he checked, Ricci hadn’t hired anyone local. Still, he could’ve brought in some other people.

 _Nothing_.

Victor begins tailing them. Eventually, Ricci and Jim drive up to the valet for that exclusive Pasha joint everyone’s so hot for these days (but no one can seem to get into). Zsasz purses his lips to one side of his mouth, sucks his teeth and rolls his eyes with annoyance.

He enters the restaurant, drops a c-note at the hostess stand and asks for a seat at the bar. Zsasz drops another two and orders his customary mineral water and lime before seating himself. After receiving his drink, he asks for a mezze plate so he can watch Jim and Ricci without question or interruption.

The brunette moves in closer and closer to Jim as their meal progresses. Jim starts out a little stiff and somewhat reserved. However, by the time dessert arrives, his body language is more relaxed. His smiles are easier and more frequent.

Eventually, the model lays an arm around Jim’s chair and begins rubbing his shoulder. Victor’s jaw clenches so hard his teeth brux. He thinks back to the time The Girls first tailed Jim at the behest of Penguin. Zsasz impatiently waited for their updates when he discovered Jim was with this very same asshole.

Victor kissed Jim for the first time earlier that very night. He later approached the detective at Scarlet’s Cabaret to discuss the man’s abrupt departure earlier that evening. Victor was certain he would’ve gotten another opportunity with Jim after hearing his words.

_“I feel like repeating what we did on the roof.”_

He’d just reached to drag Jim out of the club when Zsasz’s companion at the time showed up and ruined everything.

_“I told you to wait outside.”_

_“But I got lonely.”_

Zsasz’s screws up his mouth remembering how badly it all went and apologizing to Jim.

_“Sorry ‘bout that.”_

_“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who’s sorry. Goodbye, Zsasz.”_

Victor shakes his head and comes back to himself only to see that smiling asshole touch Jim’s face. He feels a pang in his chest when Jim closes his eyes and leans into the man’s touch…

_The way he used to with me._

Victor clenches his teeth and slowly rubs his mouth when Excelsior 865 feeds Jim some dessert. He knows what’s coming. When the model leans in to lick the whipped cream from the corner of his mouth, Zsasz can’t help but think of feeding Jim his beloved waffles at that greasy spoon by the detective’s apartment. He can still picture Jim smiling up at him as they sat side-by-side in the red booth. Victor often kissed him after feeding Jim those triangular bites with whipped cream and strawberries.

Zsasz checked on Jim after he got shot at Penguin’s new club the evening prior. He recalls his surprise when Jim asked him to stay the night. His body aches when he remembers waking beneath him the next morning.

_That was the first time we sucked each other off._

When the model reaches for the back of Jim’s neck, Victor feels compelled to break _every_. _fucking_. _bone_ in the man’s hand. Ricci leans in to kiss Jim, who quickly turns away. The model continues holding Jim’s neck despite his obvious reluctance. Zsasz is already off his barstool reaching for his combat knife when Jim shifts away and pries him off.

Victor inhales a rough breath and seats himself.

The model leans forward and apologetically bows his head. When Ricci later puts his hand over Jim’s, Zsasz seethes and his chest begins heaving.

At that moment, Jim’s face contorts. When the detective suddenly hangs his head and covers his face, Victor's furor turns to anguish. He watches Ricci wrap his arm around Jim and peck the top of his head before making a quick departure (presumably to pay).

Once alone, Jim reaches for his coat and digs for something before stopping himself. Victor clenches his jaw as Jim’s body draws in on itself. It’s difficult for Zsasz to watch Jim’s subtle paroxysms, his hanging head and heaving chest, but the pangs _really_ hit when Jim furtively wipes his face. Suddenly, Jim pulls something from his pocket.

_That’s my boxcutter._

Victor watches transfixed as Jim looks down and reverently handles it. Zsasz reaches inside his jacket pocket for the replacement Jim left him, mirroring his actions. He runs thumb along the blue utility knife so different from his beloved silver original.

The pangs in Zsasz’s chest become unbearable. He’s completely caught off guard by the ragged breath escaping his nostrils. He grits his teeth and blinks in shock at the welling behind his eyes. He swallows so loudly he’s stunned to actually _hear_ it. The sound brings him back to his senses.

Victor looks up and notices Ricci talking to some man. The gunman quickly stands in preparation to leave. He casually nods his head towards the model as he addresses the bartender.

“Hey, man. Isn’t that guy that model on all the billboards?”

The man briefly looks up.

“Yeah. That’s him.”

Zsasz pulls down the corners of his mouth and nods.

“I _thought_ so. I gotta friend who’s all hot for him. If she saw him, she’d cause a scene and his security would have to drag her outta here.”

“Ya know, I think he _used_ to have some.”

Victor tilts his head and and shrugs.

“Guess ya can never be too careful. There are a _lotta_ crazies out there.”

Victor quickly exits and hurries back down to his V-Max to keep an eye on the valet. 

—

Later, Victor sits at the bar atop the Westchester, watching Jim sip whiskey on a couch with _him_. He clenches his jaw when Jim eventually leans his head on the model’s shoulder. That’s when he sees it:

_They’re holding hands._

Victor suddenly recalls the last night he spent with Jim—the first time Jim tried to slot his fingers between his. Zsasz found the act unsettlingly intimate. He was so unnerved, he quickly wrapped his fingers around Jim’s palm instead.

It was only after fearing Jim was about to end things later that night, he finally gathered the nerve to take his hand and intertwine their fingers. His chest tightens at the recollection. He can’t help but wonder if things might be different now had he held Jim’s hand when he first tried. He swallows down the rising bile.

The two men eventually close down the bar. Victor strides to the elevators and heads for the ground floor. He waits in the hotel lobby staring at the elevator doors even though he _knows in his gut_ Jim won’t be exiting them. Still, he has to see for himself.

It isn’t until dawn breaks that Victor rubs a hand down his face and rises to leave.

 

—>j<—

_Victor reaches out and takes Jim’s hand. Jim can’t see anything past the eerie glow of his pale lover. His vision incapable of focusing on anything other than the man before him. Jim is drawn into his embrace._

_Victor tilts his head and smirks. Jim’s gaze greedily assesses the body pressed against his own. His eyes slowly travel up to the assassin’s face. Jim’s smile disappears and terror settles in. Victor’s eyes are all black. The arms around him begin to coil around his waist, crushing him. Victor purrs in a voice that isn’t his own. It’s insectillian—gravelly._

_“No matter what.”_

_Jim thrashes to get free; his terror escalates as the form that was once Victor becomes a mirror image of himself._

Jim startles awake, struggling to get away from the nightmare. He inhales a few deep breaths and quickly shakes the terror off. There is a familiar smell of coffee and breakfast lingering in the air. He looks around the room. He’s confused at first, but finally realizes where he is. The light coming through the windows is bright and glaring; he squints as he grabs his phone to discern the time.

“Shit. I slept till eleven?”

Gabrielle saunters in with a cup of coffee, grinning as he runs a hand through his bedhead.

“You needed it. I ordered us breakfast. We have berries, eggs benedict, roasted nuts, pastries and a carafe of the finest Italian coffee.”

Jim sits up and smiles. His grogginess dissipates with the amazing view of Gabrielle in nothing but black jogging pants that taper and end at his knees. He beams his host a large lopsided grin.

“Sounds nice. How long have you been awake?”

Gabrielle disappears back into the living room and hollers loud enough for Jim to hear him.

“I always get up at seven in the morning to go run. I was wondering if you will join me today? I have small photo-shoot, then the rest of the day we can do whatever.”

Gabrielle comes back with another cup of coffee. He hands it to Jim.

“Sounds way better than what I had planned. Sure.”

Jim smiles as he accepts the cup.

“Wonderful! You are very indulgent with my greediness. Let’s go by your apartment so you can get a fresh change of clothes.”

Jim raises his eyebrows as he carefully sips the coffee. He grins sheepishly.

“I don’t live there. All of my clothes are at the GCPD.”

Gabrielle quirks an eyebrow at him and scoffs.

“Wait. Why are your clothes at your work?”

“Just haven’t found a new place to live yet. To be honest, I’ve been homeless for over a month now. I hardly notice.”

Gabrielle huffs and admonishes sternly.

“This will not do, Jim. Once we are done with breakfast, we will go retrieve your clothing and you will stay here with me. I have this room till the end of the month and in that time we will be looking for a real place for you to live. I will not hear any argument to this.”

He flashes Jim a hard look.

“Capisci?”

Jim stares at him at a loss as to what to say. He feels his gut clench with the thought of living with Gabrielle even if it is for a short amount of time. He hasn’t been accountable to anyone since Lee. He fears this will get complicated. He sets his coffee on the nightstand and states.

“I can’t. Gabe, the reason I don’t live at my old apartment is because I’m avoiding my ex. I don’t want him to find out where I am by staying in any one place for long. The few friends I have left in the GCPD have promised to text me if and when he shows up there.”

He watches as Gabrielle’s face is in deep thought. He has a troubled look. He flashes his eyes at Jim and swallows.

“Jim, that is no way to live. Perhaps you should take time away from that place. Please come with me to Italy for a while or for however long you want to stay with me. _”_

Gabrielle reaches out and holds Jim’s hand.

“Look, I know you are going to deny me. But I want you to think on this. I mean _really_ think on this.

Jim nods.

“I will.”

 

—>z<—

Victor grabs a huge breakfast at a diner after leaving the Westchester. Afterwards, he speeds around Gotham going no place in particular, driving himself crazy imagining what Jim is doing with _him_. Eventually, he realizes he needs to catch up on his rounds to ensure people have licenses and convince those who don’t to get one. He heads for a place he intended to check out yesterday before he got so _distracted_.

He pulls up to Alarcon Bros Auto & Body. The family-owned business has operated as a front for a chop shop and specializing in stolen parts for years. According to Penn’s most recent list, none of the brothers working out of it are licensed.

He dismounts his Yamaha and narrows his gaze at an approaching young man trying a little too hard to act tough. He has a few tattoos and a whole lot of swagger. Victor nods at the name patch sewn on his work shirt as he addresses the wiry kid.

“You an Alarcon?”

“Yeah. I’m Hector.”

“I’m here to talk business.”

Zsasz raises a brow at the kid. He pulls down the corners of his mouth and shakes his head.

“Can’t say you’re what I expected.”

The kid regards Victor, paying particular attention to his holster. He briefly looks side to side before thumbing his nose and nodding at Zsasz to follow. Hector walks Victor past the area where the above board business takes place and guides him to a separate spot where several vehicles have been disassembled. The young man points at a man standing in front of a workbench.

“My three oldest brothers run things. That’s Vincent. Matías is workin’ on a Riviera here somewhere.” The kid looks around before returning back out front. “I don’t see G, though.”

Victor silently walks up to the man who’s facing a workbench and preoccupied with wiping down his hands. As he approaches, he grabs an unattended socket wrench.

“You Vincent?”

The man turns as he answers.

“Who wants to know?”

Victor quickly rears the hand holding the wrench to his opposite shoulder and lands a punishing backhanded blow to the man’s mouth, breaking some teeth. He growls in response.

“Penguin.”

The man cries out and stumbles backward into his workbench, stunned and disoriented. Before he can react, Victor hits him across his bloodied mouth a second time. The force of the second blow dislocates his jaw. The stunned man falls to the floor of the garage howling in pain. Victor grabs him by the hair and pulls him up.

“You need a license from Penguin to run your shop and you don’t have one.”

Victor stretches a wide, predatory smile.

“That’s why _I’m_ here.”

Victor hears the sounds of dragging chains behind him. Zsasz quickly releases the man’s head and flings the socket wrench towards the sound. He quickly unsheathes his combat knife and spins around to face a shouting man.

“Hey, asshole! That’s my brother!”

Victor grins at the man rushing him. He throws the knife into the arm his assailant’s using to swing the chain. The blade lodges into his shoulder, compromising his anterior deltoid and outermost pec muscles. The man shrieks in pain as his useless arm falls to his side, sending the chain slamming into a nearby wall before clattering to the floor.

Victor rushes the stunned man. He yanks out his knife from the man’s shoulder and headbutts him, careening him into the hood of a nearby car. Zsasz smiles down at the crimson pool blooming from the guy’s shoulder and spreading into his chest.

“You guys know you need a license from Penguin. We sent word down a few weeks back.”

The man raises the only hand he can in surrender. The severed muscular attachments in his other arm make it impossible for him to raise it.

“Okay, man. I swear I’ll get one. Tell Penguin ‘no disrespect’. I’m sorry. I misunderstood.”

Victor pulls down the corners of his mouth and nods.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it? He’ll be glad to know you _finally_ _understand_.”

That’s when Victor notices the man’s name patch.

 _Gabriel_.

Victor pictures Excelsior 865 holding Jim’s neck after an unsuccessful attempt at kissing him. He remembers Jim prying off Ricci’s hand and scowls as he points his combat knife at the mechanic’s patch.

“I know _another_ Gabriel. Gotta say. _Not_ a fan. He’s gotta _nasty_ habit of touching what he _shouldn’t._ ”

Victor takes a quick glance at a nearby workbench and spies a rubber mallet. He quickly sheathes his combat knife and grabs it, returning his attention to the wide-eyed, blubbering man.

“Look man, _please!_ ”

Victor grabs the man’s raised forearm and forces his hand onto the hood of the car. He rears up and slams the mallet against Gabriel’s knuckles. His hapless victim wails in agony. Zsasz grins in response to the satisfying crunch of breaking bones and lands five more rapid blows, stretching out his delight in the man’s anguish.

Victor pictures Excelsior 865 touching Jim again and suddenly remembers the felled chain. He tosses the rubber mallet onto the hood of the car and bends to grab it, grinning at the yowling _Gabriel_ as he does. Zsasz quickly wraps the chain around the man’s neck a few times and yanks him to the floor.

Victor holds the chain and rears up his foot to stomp the man’s head, but catches movement out of his peripheral vision. He notices the Riviera up on a jack and a guy on a creeper hiding beneath it. After a better look, Victor can see the car isn’t on the jack stand yet. The guy must’ve been in the middle of lifting it before attempting to hide. Victor releases the chained man and heads for the Riviera, kicking the jack stand out from beneath the car.

Zsasz tilts his head and smirks before dragging the guy out from under the Buick.

“You must be Matías then, huh?”

The guy on the creeper looks up in horror, pleading as he lifts his hands.

“Look man, _I-I-I_ _swear…_ I’ll _get_ one, just _please…_ ”

Victor smiles and grabs the jack, quickly releasing the valve and dropping the car mere inches above the man’s head.

“You’d _better…_. unless you wanna see _me_ again.”

Victor heads back out front towards his Yamaha, passing the kid on the way out. As Zsasz mounts his bike, he nods the young man towards the back.

“I think you just gotta promotion. Oh and one more thing:

 _Get. a. license. from. Penguin_.”

Victor starts his V-Max and speeds off.

 

—>  <—

Two weeks later, Oswald sits at his large ebony wood desk as the construction for the rest of the club continues. Contractors buzz and mill about the entire building; opening night will soon be upon him. The extra cash flow with the license program has helped a great deal to get the club from the tawdry aesthetics of The Sirens to the sensible and sophisticated allure of what will be The Iceberg Lounge.

Done with the night’s business of buyers for priceless artifacts, he is able to enjoy his dinner as he watches the news on a small television set next to his desk.

Penguin’s ears perk up when he hears the whirling and buzzing of mechanisms on Mr. Freeze’s suit. Much to Oswald’s discomfort, the drastic drop in temperature is also a clear indicator that the frosty man is near. His bad knee begins to ache. The doors to his office open and the man walks in.

Oswald’s mouth twists in disappointment. He knows his food is going to get cold with Fries’ little visit. The frost-plumed illuminated hunk walks into his office and halts just beyond the doors. He remarks in his usual monotone air.

“The cooling systems are completed for the Nygma display. Is there anything else you need or can I go now?”

Oswald’s eyes remain affixed to the television set and his lips press hard into a thin line. He waves Freeze over as he wipes his mouth. He turns up the volume on the set. The tall frost man walks around Oswald’s desk and scrunches his face at the television.

The news reporters were on the scene earlier; the news channels have been running the story all day.

“This is reporter Vale. We are on the scene of a bank robbery attempt that has been successfully thwarted by the GCPD. Detective Gordon and several officers were able to stymie attempts made by several suspects to steal assets from Gotham National Bank.”

The scene cuts to Detective Gordon.

“The robbers were apprehended without loss of life or injury to innocent bystanders. This in part is thanks to the outstanding men and women of the GCPD force. These _criminals_ are emboldened by greed and corruption. _We will not_ stand aside and allow criminals a _free pass_ on hard-working citizens. I will _not_ hesitate to jail any and all lawbreakers that dare to endanger and harm our fair city.”

The scene cuts to Reporter Vale.

“There you have it. Detective Jim Gordon on a mission to rid the city of its corruption, one criminal at a time.”

Oswald lowers the volume on the television, his temper boiling into rage. With lips pressed tight and pinpointed pupils, Oswald turns to Mr. Freeze. He screeches as spittle sprays.

“Go get Zsasz. Now!”

Mr. Freeze nods and walks out of the office. He heads downstairs to the main lounge area where the hired enforcer typically hangs out. Zsasz orchestrates license overwatch from the main floor.

He finds the man at a booth instructing his men to different locations of large heists and robberies.

Victor Fries smirks as he approaches the pale gunman.

“Hey, The Boss man wants to see you. _Now_. He’s pretty pissed.”

Victor narrows his gaze at Fries’ smirk and clenches his jaw. He briefly looks to his men still waiting instruction and sets down his paperwork before rising and heading for the office.

Freeze walks behind Zsasz as they head upstairs. He beams a large stiff grin at the back of the smooth head as he states in his usual monotone delivery.

“Gee, wonder what you forgot about _this_ time?”

Victor’s jaw and fists clench. His face grows hot with the remark. He takes a deep breath to steel himself before walking in (and to keep himself from punching Fries in his smart fucking mouth).

Freeze grins knowing his little comment got to the assassin; it amuses him whenever he can get under Zsasz’s skin. He sees the other Victor’s jaw clench tighter.

Oswald picks at his cold dinner when he hears the door open. He slides the plate aside and smooths his jacket straight before leaning forward and looking up at Zsasz.

“Boss?”

Oswald places both of his arms on the desk, his hands folding together. His eyes narrow on his enforcer, head subtly rocking from side to side as he scowls at Zsasz. His lips purse before he inhales a sharp breath.

“Zsasz, I just learned that one of the biggest acquisitions under the licensing program was left neglected. How is that possible?”

Though the small kingpin holds a steady tone, he is ready to unleash his displeasure at the pale gunman for his oversight.

Victor crinkles his brow clearly remembering the kingpin’s instructions.

“Boss, you said you wanted _everyone_ manning the docks for your auction items.”

Oswald blinks his lashes at Zsasz in rapid fire, his smile crooked. His temper rising each second that his enforcer speaks.

He turns to Freeze and addresses the silent man beside him. He holds up one upturned palm at Zsasz and bobs his head as he amusingly quips.

“Do you _hear_ what I have to put up with? _And_ for the amount of money I pay— _to have_ _this level of incompetence!_ ”

Mr. Freeze shakes his head as he turns his ethereal, silver eyes to the other Victor.

Oswald turns back to Zsasz and grits his teeth, snarling under his breath.

“How many of your men does it _take_ to oversee a simple dock delivery? Mm? The bank robbery license was priority one!”

Victor’s facial muscles begin to retract and corners of his mouth pull down with the upturned hand and the slight about his competence—despite having followed Penguin’s instructions to the letter.

“A simple dock delivery? Five tops. This wasn’t a simple dock delivery. You had a lotta items and crates for auction. _You_ _said_ they were _really_ important and you wanted _everyone_ on it.”

Oswald juts out his lower jaw and rises from his chair. His fists clenched at his sides as his small body trembles with repressed rage. He points a finger at Zsasz and leans forward. His voice one notch just below screeching.

“Did I mean _you?_ No! I meant your best men! I wanted _you and your women_ to keep vigil over the bank robbery! I can’t have Mr. Freeze running around cleaning up your mess! Look at him! He attracts too much attention! Next time Victor, use your critical thinking in these sorts of matters! Oh wait— _I forget it’s not your strong suit!_ ”

Mr. Freeze shakes his head and gives Victor a large smirk. His eyes looking him up and down.

Oswald quickly turns the volume back up then spins his small television around to show Zsasz what is replaying on the screen. Oswald puts both hands on his hips and sucks his teeth as his glare remains glued to his enforcer.

It is the same news pitch about Detective Gordon and the GCPD halting the robbery.

Victor’s face and ears grow hot with frustration knowing he did _exactly_ as he was instructed. Being dressed down for it is bad enough, but watching Fries look on with that smug smile, standing where he _used to_ only rubs salt in the wound.

_Not my fucking ‘strong suit’?_

Victor can feel the heat rising in his gut until he turns his attention to the media coverage. He watches Jim address the media about the thwarted heist, trying to rein in the conflicting emotions threatening to show on his face. Watching Jim is bittersweet. Victor misses him terribly, but Jim’s with _him_ now: _Hot Italian Model_.

He also knows Jim’s fearless stance against Penguin is fraught with peril and grave consequences. The kingpin won’t stand for it. Victor knows Jim well enough to know he’ll _never_ back down and that it’s only a matter of time before Penguin orders _him_ to deal with the matter.

To deal with _Jim_.

Victor briefly looks to the ceiling, takes another breath and blinks before returning Penguin’s gaze. The timbre his voice lowers with frustration.

“Boss. _You_ said _you were going to tell me_ your enforcement plans and where to send my men. Just to be clear: that’s _not_ what we’re doing anymore?”

Mr. Freeze takes a step forward and growls at the assassin.

“You will do as you’re _told_ when you’re _told!_ ”

Zsasz narrows his eyes at Fries. He clenches his jaw and his voice lowers even more, his cadence becoming increasingly measured.

“And _that’s_ what I’m _trying_ to be _clear_ on…”

Zsasz glares back at the iceman.

“...what The Boss wants _this_ time.”

Mr. Freeze narrows his eyes and clenches his armored fists tightly.

Oswald raises a finger and interjects.

“Well, _you_ need not worry about matters of enforcement. I’ve instructed your men to report straight to Mr. Penn and get a list of the larger licensed crimes that interest me. From there, they are to watch over the smooth execution of these heists.”

Oswald walks around his desk and stands before Zsasz. His eyes twinkling as a devious thought formulates in his head.

Victor’s frustration grows exponentially with the dressing down, Fries’ posturing and Penguin’s mixed messages about his job tasks. He works hard to temper his response.

“So. _Again_. _To be clear._ _I no longer give my men the assignments_. _You_ do. They go directly to Penn to watch over the most important acquisitions, _right?_ ”

Oswald takes a step closer, his smile stretches from ear to ear; a phony smirk veiling a devious plot. He looks Victor from top to bottom as his head swivels and his lashes bat. He replies with an icy tone.

“Correct. You are to carry out specific orders. My first order is for you to get yourself to the GCPD tomorrow and send a message to Harvey Bullock for me.”

Oswald giggles, his enthusiasm practically bursting the seams of his composure. He waits for Zsasz to ask him what he needs to relay.

Zsasz _knows_ that look on Penguin’s face, having seen it many times over the years. Before now, he was never on the receiving end of it. He once found it amusing as he watched from the sidelines. It isn’t so funny anymore. His facial muscles retract and he crosses his arms trying to keep himself from throttling Penguin.

“What message is that?”

Oswald crosses his arms and looks over at Mr. Freeze. He raises his shoulders and scrunches his nose, beaming Fries a secretive smile. Freeze shifts his weight to one foot and smiles back at the small kingpin. Oswald lets out an amused chuckle and nods his head up and down as he returns his attention to Zsasz.

“Tell Captain Bullock that if he doesn’t put a _shorter leash_ on Jim Gordon, _he will become_ _my problem_. You tell him this as you’re breaking those _fat disgusting sausages_ of his! He will _understand_ what I mean.”

Oswald’s smile quickly fades as his pale green eyes hold onto Victor’s dark gaze. He leans forward as his jaw juts forward, lower teeth flashing.

“Do _you_ understand?”

Victor’s so angry can hear the blood whoosh in his head, his breathing already accelerating when Penguin implies Jim’s a dog— _again_. He grits his teeth hard enough that they brux before he replies. Zsasz’s eyes flash as he growls.

“Understood.”

Oswald lets out an amused snort and nods.

“Good, now off with you. Go back to _your_ minions and provide assistance where needed.”

Mr. Freeze scoffs and waves his right hand in a gesture to shoo Victor from their sights.

The pale gunman’s body trembles as he spins on his heel, his gait out of the office long as he speeds out of the office.

Oswald returns to his chair and reclines back. He peers up at Fries and smiles. The tall man smirks back and asks.

“So, why not send him tonight to break some fingers?”

Oswald giggles and brings the fingertips of both hands together. He stares at the door.

“Well, wouldn’t it be much more _delicious_ if there was an audience to witness Zsasz’s handiwork?”

Mr. Freeze tilts his head and raises a frosty eyebrow.

Oswald rolls his eyes and elaborates.

“Jim Gordon!”

Oswald flicks his wrist up and looks at the time. He then remarks.

“He’s probably off shift. I want to make sure that he’s there to watch his _boyfriend_ doing what he does best. _And I know_ Jim, he won’t stand by and watch.”

Mr. Freeze makes a silent “Oh” with his mouth and nods his head. He lets out a small amused chuckle.

Oswald eyes his cold dinner with bitter disappointment then turns to Freeze.

“You are dismissed.”

Mr. Freeze nods and strides towards the doors.

Oswald looks at his food again then quickly calls out.

“Send Firefly up.”

The small kingpin giggles as he envisions Firefly reheating his dinner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just go on record...
> 
> I love writing Oswald. I love writing him as the conniving, mean, temperamental bitch that he is. He is 100% out of control when things irk him. AND I LOVE IT! 
> 
> Also I want to go on record as saying I love the tension between Fries and Zsasz. I wrote Freeze away from my typical canon which is supportive, industrious, lonely-love lost man. I wrote Fries as smug, shit starting, sarcastic number two. My Oswald enables Fries to do as he likes well because... you know. He’s a tall cold drink of ice water. 
> 
> ....HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE CRACK SHIPS? I bet you didn’t know *looks around at Boxcutter and Safe Word* I had other stories but I tore them down from AO3; my last two were The Victors pairing. (BTW will repost stories once I do major overhauling for improved writing skills.) I was tempted to turn the tension between these two into some weird sexual thing. BUT Zsasz is so caught up with Jim and Freeze is such a jackass. *sigh* it wouldn’t have worked. 
> 
> ~FC  
> 
> 
> ______
> 
> Jess tries to stuff down the compulsion to break Ricci’s f*cking face… fingers… e v e r y t h i n g, hence the treatment of poor Gabriel Alarcon. And WTF was my Jim doing in that hotel room with him?!
> 
> And this kinda goes without saying but my boss is an messy b!tch who needs to work on his leadership skills! Suffice to say NO ONE writes b!tchwald better than my fanfic wifey, Deya! I mean, I actually love Penguin in general (including his ultra mega-b!tch mode), but NOT as Zsasz in this fic! UGH!
> 
> And that f*cking Freeze?! 
> 
> DAMB RIGHT it wouldn’t have worked, FC, ‘cause the only thing Zsasz wants to do is beat the sh!t outta Fries, grab Pike’s fire sh!t and light that muphucca UP!
> 
> }8> -o-
> 
> This chapter brings up events in chapter 5 of Boxcutter.


	7. Wicked Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim’s latest escapade spurs Harvey into pleading with the detective. Feeling stressed, Jim goes for a ride through Gotham only to run into the very man he can’t get out of his mind.

—>j<—

That same night of the bank robbery attempt, Harvey marches into his office. He sees Jim waiting for him like he asked, past his shift. He heads straight to his office as he gruffs at the detective to follow.

“Close the door behind you.”

Jim marches after Harvey, quickly closing and locking the door. He stands two steps from the doorway with his arms crossed. He knows exactly what this is about. Jim wanted the press to put heat on the GCPD and the commissioner over the Pax Penguina. He also wanted to give a big _middle finger_ to Oswald Cobblepot. Jim smiles.

Harvey takes his trench coat and hat off, throwing both on top of his desk. He turns and notices the smug look on Jim’s face. He knows the detective called the reporters earlier in the morning. He looks away and places both hands on his hips. He exhales an angry breath, lower jaw jutting forward. He keeps his voice low and measured.

“So, not only are you _still_ stoppin’ licensed criminals, but you’re talkin’ to reporters about all this. You’re only gonna piss Penguin off flauntin’ it in his face.”

Jim shrugs.

Harvey sighs, frustrated with Jim’s new stance of silence he’s taken to over the last few days. The detective no longer shouts or protests but watches on in silence as his licensed criminals are released. He then rinses and repeats on a new set.

Harvey couldn’t change Jim if he tried. He knows the detective isn’t about to back down, no matter how much he wishes he would. The _one man army_ that is Jim Gordon is a force he has never had success standing against. But this time, he knows that the detective is severely outmatched and definitely outgunned. He rubs the back of his neck and adds.

“You hope to get it in front of the public eye to stop Oswald. Jim, the commissioner and the mayor aren’t goin’ to change their minds. I’ve tried to get them to change their minds. They’re scared of standin’ up to Oswald; he’s gotten _too powerful_.”

Jim shrugs back at Harvey, finally offering a few words.

“I’m not afraid of him.”

Harvey approaches him with pleading eyes, bringing both hands up—begging.

“We have _no leverage_ against him! _None!_ You’re throwin’ stones at a giant. God dammit, Jim! I care about ch’ya _dumbass!_ I don’t wanna see you get hurt. _Please back off!”_

Jim leans against the door and sighs.

“How many more times are we going to keep going around, Harvey?”

Harvey gruffs.

“Till you stop! Or when Penguin finally has had enough of you and sets Zs….”

Harvey stops himself from speaking _his_ name. He’s delivering another low blow to Jim and he doesn’t want to keep hurting his friend. He shakes his head and inhales a long slow breath. He watches as Jim comes off the door and takes a step to the side, his head hung.

“Jim… I’m sorry. I don’t want another fight, but I don’t want to see you self destruct either.”

Jim turns to open the door, but halts momentarily before leaving.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Harv.”

Jim offers Harvey a small smile and then leaves.

 

______

Jim showers, his mind preoccupied with how much he wanted to shoot every robber in the failed bank heist. There were a couple of times he almost did had it not been for Romero sticking close by his side. Lately, Jim finds his bloodlust hard to curtail. When he’s alone, he beats perps black and blue. He has been admonished several times by Harvey for his excessive use of force.

_If no one else is playing by the rules why should I?_

Jim dresses in the GCPD locker room. Even though Gabrielle gave him a room key, he refuses to spend every day at the hotel room; it’s confining. The luxury resort accommodations are top notch but the space feels… _bleak_. He still struggles with allowing Gabrielle into his every waking moment. The man already comes over to the precinct just about every day to take him to lunch.

Jim combs his hair back and adds a bit of pomade. He sets the comb down and sighs, a prickle of disgust settles into his core. He feels bad for stringing Gabrielle along, but he’s still unsure what he feels for the Italian man.

_He’s sweet, loving and treats me like I’m a king._

Jim shakes his head at all the things Gabrielle has tried to buy him and every single item he has refused. He doesn’t feel comfortable accepting gifts from a man he isn’t fucking much less— _not kissing_.

_Time is nearing for him to head back to Italy and he wants to know if he has something to come back to. I’ve given him nothing to hold onto. Just like Barbara, Lee… Victor. And yet, he waits._

Jim dresses in his riding clothes: dark denim jeans, a long sleeve black button-up and his riding jacket. He splashes a bit of cologne on his neck. He stares at himself in the mirror.

_The only thing he has over Victor is I can actually talk to him. He listens and offers his perspective, actual conversation. It has brought me some level of sanity, yet I deny him. Maybe I should just let him have me. Maybe he’ll fuck Victor out of my system._

He slips his feet into black boots then grabs a set of gloves. He ensures he has everything and heads to his bike that he keeps in the GCPD motorpool. He long since abandoned his sedan at his old apartment. He takes a police car when he’s out on calls and cabs when he is off work.

The last few days, however, Gabrielle has been by to pick him up after work to make him stay at his place. Tonight, the model is at a function then an after party. Jim will be alone, free to ride around and maybe find a room to rent later. His priorities tonight are to ride, eat, then hit up a bar. He can’t remember the last time he’s gone on a ride for the sheer joy of it.

Jim races out of the motorpool and immediately takes an on ramp onto the main loop around the entire city. He takes in a huge breath of freedom and gives it the gas. The wonderment of the ride still fresh and alive as though it was the first time.

A memory of Victor’s first night at his mother’s house pops into his head.

 _Jim wraps his arms around the beautiful man, pulling him down onto his body while they kiss. He pulls back and licks at Victor’s lips. He beams a smile up at his lover; they had just finished treating each other to blowjobs in the sixty-nine position. Jim sighs and caresses Victor’s face._  
  
_“You’re so amazing. No matter how many times we do it, it always feels like the first time.”_

Jim smiles.

_I never tire of feeling him in between my legs. So much like my motorcycle, hard and strong, making me quiver with excitement._

Memories fill his head; Victor’s hard body pressed flush against his inner thighs much like the hard metal of the machine between his legs.

_With the slightest coaxing…_

Jim leans ever so slightly; the bike leans likewise, heading into another lane.

 _Victor would take me in any position I desired._ _Giving me a thrill that can’t be matched by anyone else._

Flashes of many memories coalesce into a steady stream of images. Hips _grinding_ , teeth _sinking_ , eager tongues _playing_ , and lips locking _feverishly_. Jim dodges in and out of traffic, mind consumed with Victor’s hands, grabbing, clenching and holding his body where he wants him. Jim squirms hard against his bike. His growing erection throbbing and aching for Victor and the continuous vibration of the engine.

He revs the engine into higher rpms, swinging and swerving down the four lane highway as it loops around Gotham. His swollen cock throbs back, aching to be released.

Jim’s body is yearning to be touched, fondled _—ravished_. He sighs, frustrated and longing for Victor’s body.

_Maybe I will return to the hotel and wait for Gabrielle. Fuck, I could burst just riding around Gotham, thinking of Victor. Just one more loop then I will get dinner and a beer. Then maybe let Gabrielle fuck me senseless._

Jim swallows; again that feeling of guilt and disgust rises up.

_You’re going to use him to fantasize about Victor while he fucks you._

Jim speeds through alleyways and backroads before hitting the main highways again to the heart of Gotham. He spent the better part of the night exploring just about every road before deciding to stop for food. He sees an illuminated sign not far from the stoplight where he’s waiting, _Bessie’s All Night Diner._

_Excellent. I’m starving._

Jim pulls up front next to a family sedan. One kid is standing outside of the car next to an opened back passenger window. The kid is handing the younger sibling a plastic wrapped toy from his bag of food. The young little girl takes the small multi-colored ball and beams her older brother a large smile. She then extends her hand out of the window with a large fry. The older boy bites at the offering and giggles. They both look at him as he kills the motorcycle engine. Jim beams them a large smile. One of the parents calls out as they get into the driver’s seat.

“Okay kiddo, all aboard; time to hit the road again.”

The boy scurries into the backseat of the car as he buckles himself in. The little girl keeps her focus on Jim. Her eyes large and dark.

Jim finds himself in another déjà vu moment as he returns the little’s girl’s gaze. The instance soon dies when he feels his phone buzz in his jacket pocket.

Jim takes his gloves off, quickly running a hand through his hair. He digs out his phone; it’s Gabrielle.

“Gabe.”

“Jim, I was wondering if you wanted to change your mind and join me for the after party?”

Jim leans forward on the bike, his erection still somewhat hard. He extends his free arm over the handles and stretches.

“No, it’s okay. You have fun. I’m riding around town.”

The warmth of the machine is still pleasant and arousing, eliciting a soft moan from Jim. He sits up and unzips his jacket just a little; he is starting to sweat. He strokes a finger down the cherry red fuselage, his mind blocking out Gabrielle as it focuses back on what it wants.

_Carefully placed tally marks in a creamy white field; hard muscle nestled under soft supple skin, body quivering… waiting._

Jim’s erection throbs with renewed interest.

He can hear Gabrielle take in a breath and sadly ask.

“Will you be at the room when I am done? I really want to be with you tonight.”

Jim swallows, his fantasy dissipates with Gabrielle’s breaking voice. He slumps his shoulders and assures his upset friend.

“I’ll be there, Gabrielle. Now go have fun. Don’t worry over me. I’m just getting a burger then maybe a beer or two. I’m just enjoying a night ride.”

“Okay, I look forward to seeing you my handsome detective. Be safe.”

Jim sighs and shoves the phone in his pocket. He glances towards the doors to his left. About twenty feet away, a man is standing there and hasn’t moved since his phone call with Gabrielle. Jim makes nothing of it as he zips up the pocket. He glances again, this time _really_ looking at the man who still _hasn’t moved_.

Jim’s eyes widen.

_Victor._

 

—>z<—

After Victor’s shit day and Penguin dressing him down, he heads to Bessie’s for a bite. He spends most of his meal mulling over his assignment to deal with Bullock the following day and the odds of running into Jim.

Zsasz is no fan of the washed-up asshole and would _happily_ break _every_ bone in the man’s body _without_ being ordered or paid to do so, but he’s rankled by the message Penguin wants him to deliver:

 _“Tell Captain Bullock that if he doesn’t put a_ **_shorter leash_ ** _on Jim Gordon,_ **_he will become my problem_** _.”_

He grits his teeth.

Before his involvement with Jim, things were _so_ easy. He’d do his job, have some fun in the process, go off to the next job, the next fuck, the next kill, the next _whatever_...

But things are so complicated now and only growing more so. He knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s forced to do the inevitable. Jim is tenacious, willful, determined, unafraid… _uncompromising_.

_Jim will never back down. It’s not in his nature._

Victor fears the very qualities that forged his deep respect for Jim will ultimately prove to be his undoing.

_The man’s a warrior. Always has been. Always will be._

And now, after everything that’s happened between them, his admiration for Jim has turned into something so much deeper… something he struggles to understand. Victor still grapples with the foreign sensations and feelings he experienced with Jim during their first assignations (the _ache_... the _longing_ ). Since then, things have only grown more complicated. He now wrestles with feelings and attachment he hasn’t felt since childhood before everything _changed._

Before _he_ changed.

It wasn’t until Penguin began realizing his new vision for Gotham that Victor _really_ felt the impact of those feelings. He actually _hesitated_ at the GCPD because it was Jim. Zsasz had to _force_ himself to do what (until now) always came so naturally to him.

_Jim makes me weak._

He takes a deep breath and puffs out a defeated sigh before rising to leave. He waves goodbye to Bessie, leaves his money on the counter and heads for the door. When he looks up, he can’t believe his eyes.

 _Jim_.

 

 

He watches Jim straddle his red Yamaha as he talks on his phone. At first, Victor is unable to move. It’s the first time in weeks that he’s seen Jim in neutral territory, not at work, where things are complicated. Right now, it’s just the two of them. There’s nobody else around.

He rakes his eyes all over Jim’s body, taking time to appreciate the way his quads flex beneath this jeans, his fingers twitching with the memory of his taut muscles. He can still feel them beneath his palms and his fingers, gliding up his thighs and clawing at his ass to draw him closer.

Zsasz wants to rush the man, crush his mouth to his and shove his tongue down his throat. He yearns to feel Jim’s body again and forget this huge fucking mess, before things got complicated… got all fucked up… before everything went to shit...

Just as he’s about to step forward, Jim looks up and they lock eyes.

Jim’s breath catches in his throat, afraid of inhaling for fear of breaking the spell. They stare at each other for a couple of seconds. Victor then takes one step towards him; it shatters the moment. Jim sucks in a quick breath and reacts instantly. He turns his Yamaha back on, reversing as quickly as possible. He guns it out of the parking lot, making a hellacious racket of screaming engine and squealing tires.

 

 

Victor bolts out the door and runs to his V-Max. He immediately clambers atop his bike, starts the engine and peals after Jim, tires squealing. His quarry’s already about a block and a half ahead of him. He races to catch up.

Jim watches on as the next light turns yellow. Without thinking, he guns it and crosses the intersection as it hits red. He keeps laying on the throttle to catch all the lights before he turns to get onto the on ramp.

He was caught completely off guard with Victor’s presence. The weird link between them seems to lead Jim to him _all the time_.

His agony over letting Victor go hasn’t faded in the least. The last thing he needs is to be in _his_ presence. Jim can feel his resolve begin to weaken, his hand on the throttle aching to relent.

_You were obsessing over him the whole ride. Why are you fighting it?_

Jim clenches his teeth tight. His wrist flicks, opening the throttle as he flies down the road.

Victor speeds up the block and barrels through an intersection, weaving through honking cars and the few that actually manage to stop. He gooses the engine to speed up the next block and almost gets clipped in the process. He’s desperate to catch up with Jim who’s getting further away and speeding up the entrance ramp.

_Hustle, Zsasz. You’re gonna lose him._

Zsasz blasts onto the highway and spots Jim, who’s already more than a mile up the road. He guns it.

Jim looks back once he gets in a clear lane. He can see Victor steadily catching up. He furrows his brow; there is a rising ache in his chest that is only getting worse every moment he fights it.

_Victor, why won’t you let me go..._

He guns the engine, about to get into heavy traffic. He wraps his “get back” whip in his right hand and starts weaving in between cars. A large red truck begins switching lanes; the driver doesn’t notice Jim coming up beside him. Jim hits the driver’s side with the whip and the truck swerves back. Jim notices he is about to come up on unexpected late night traffic.

_I just need to get many vehicles in between us._

Victor takes a determined breath as he speeds forward, first in an empty lane and swerving in between two others trying to catch up with Jim, knowing it isn’t going to be easy.

_Nothing’s ever easy with Jim._

Zsasz blasts forward in between as many cars as he can. Normally, the heavy traffic wouldn’t prove as challenging, but the ugly truth is Jim makes it _impossible_ for him to keep his wits about him. Jim makes him reckless, wild, _desperate…_ It’s futile for him to maintain his customary indifference. He doesn’t want to lose Jim. Not again. He’s already lost too much of him and now the stakes are much, _much_ higher.

Victor winces when Jim’s almost clipped by a large red truck and almost miscalculates himself in his concern for the man, almost slamming into a car switching lanes. He regains control of his bike and continues his pursuit.

Jim sees an off ramp he’d rather take than continue to negotiate the congestion up ahead. He cuts across and dips into the exit lane, cutting off several cars in the process. Horns blare their discontent as he flips them the finger.

He looks back and doesn’t see Victor.

_Maybe I cut across just in time._

Jim chuckles as he continues down the access road to a set of lights.

Victor is still struggling to maneuver around the red truck and other cars when he hears the roar of Jim’s Yamaha. He looks up and spies Jim cutting across for the exit ramp. Zsasz takes a quick look to the right and is luckily able to maneuver past the right lane, just before the barrier. The detective’s finally close enough where he might be able to catch up. Jim’s stopped at the first intersection, less than a half mile ahead.

Jim sits at the red light, the engine rumbling and vibrating. He can feel his erection return. The way Victor looked standing there at the diner, Jim wanted to jump him.

_I didn’t though. I ran. I always run._

Jim smiles when he thinks about early on in the ride. How close he was to bursting just thinking of Victor underneath him. Wishing it was him vibrating and purring in between his legs instead of his bike.

He glances up and sees the light is green. He guns the engine and keeps on the access road hoping to take a highway leading out of Gotham. He is sure there is one several lights down.

Jim whips his head to the side at the sound of a deep rumble coming up on him. Victor is staring at him. He’s pleasantly surprised that Victor managed through the heavy traffic and the split second off ramp. Jim inwardly smiles and guns his bike again, racing towards the next set of traffic lights.

There are two cars going slower than him in the lane. He zooms around them earning more angry horn blaring. Jim laughs as he continues to the yellow lights.

_Instead of gunning it, I think I will let him catch up._

Victor cusses as he negotiates the slower vehicles ahead, convinced he’s about to lose Jim. He speeds between them almost clipping one in an attempt to catch up with the man who is now… _slowing?_

Zsasz isn’t sure what to make of it, but knowing Jim, he’s certain it’s some ploy. Still, he can’t deny loving the cat and mouse of it all, reminded of the time he followed Jim through that bar when he turned back and first winked at him.

Victor makes his way up and turns to look at Jim.

Jim turns his head as the light steadies on red. He looks Victor up and down then returns his attention to the lights. Once he sees the cross traffic light turn yellow, he turns to Victor and winks.

He guns it so hard he raises the front wheel up as he crosses the intersection. Jim manages the throttle and lowers his bike back down as he zips down the long stretch of road to the next set of lights.

Victor chuckles appreciatively at Jim’s wink and bites his lower lip. He moans and shakes his head, distracted until Jim peals forward, leaving him behind. He races to catch up, waiting… wanting… _needing_ for Jim to look back again.

_It’s been so long since he’s looked at me that way._

Jim smirks to himself but doesn’t grace Victor with another look while they are speeding down the road. He admits to himself that he loves having Victor Zsasz’s complete attention entirely on him.

Jim slows down at the next light that is red. When he comes to a stop, he turns to look at his riding stalker. The look on Victor’s face is somewhere between desire and hunger. It makes every nerve in his body spark; his blood begins to course hard and fast through all his extremities.

_He has that look like he wants to eat me. Fuck, I want to let him. Maybe I will let him stew in it first._

Jim casts his eyes to Victor’s lips, wanting so desperately to press his own to them. He turns away to focus ahead.

When they stop at the next light is when Victor finally _sees_ it. Jim looks him square in the eye and then drops his gaze to his mouth. That’s when he _feels_ it. That _pang._  That _stir._ _Low._ _ **Deep**._  He can already feel his breathing grow heavier and his desire gather. He keeps his eyes steady on Jim waiting for him to look back, paying no mind to anything else.

_Only Jim._

The light turns green. Jim keeps the throttle easy as he coasts down the road, and onward. There are two more lights to hit before reaching a long stretch of highway that runs through woods that lead to a lake. He doesn’t look at Victor; he can tell, however, the assassin can’t seem to keep his eyes on the road. Luckily, this particular road is empty. Jim smiles.

_Good thing we got off the busy highway or he would be ground beef._

They reach the next light that has just turned yellow. Jim decides to tease the persistent man and let Victor know just how much he wants him that very moment.

He turns his head towards Victor. He brings his right hand to his mouth and slowly licks his index finger. He glides his tongue over the digit, flicking the tip of his tongue up at the end. His eyes travel from Victor’s eyes to his mouth as he repeats the action.

Victor’s heady from chasing Jim through traffic and being _so close_ to him again… alone… even if they are separated by the small distance. His excitement builds as Jim turns to look back.

He groans loudly at stirring in his pants when Jim raises his finger to lick and flick at its tip. His breathing turns to panting with the heat behind his cock and the ache in his balls.  

 _Everything disappears_.

All he _sees_ is _Jim_.

All he _wants_ is _Jim_.

Victor’s already shuddering as he pictures Jim with his hand on his cock, taking it into his mouth. His hips immediately begin rutting from the mere thought of it, thighs twitching and his rigid length aching.  

Jim narrows his eyes and smiles at Victor, achieving the reaction he so desperately wants of him.

_God, I want to straddle him on that bike. Let him fuck me as we speed down the road._

He rolls his hips into his seat, giving his finger one final lick. He turns and waits on the coming light cycle. Once the light changes, Jim guns it again. This time not relenting on the throttle. He blasts through to the next lights with no intention of stopping.

Zsasz is so distracted by Jim’s little show and his body’s reaction to it, he doesn’t even register when the light changes. It isn’t until Jim leaves him in his dust that he realizes he needs to catch up. He hits it hard and struggles to catch up with Jim who’s heading farther and farther out, away from the city limits.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always been a huge fan of a good chase. Whether it be cars, boats, MOTORCYCLES or the thrill of the chase between two people, metaphoric or literal. I love anticipation, the thrill of the hunt, the intricate dance of allure, lust and desire. And when the predator finally catches its prey... mmmm. The sweet surrender as the prey falters and sees there’s no way to escape the inevitable. Excuse me... I...uh...mentally journeyed to the subject matter in the NEXT chapter. *fans herself*
> 
> Oh yes, the motorcycle segment. Having rode a top of one a few times, it does remind me of riding a strong virile lover. Jim can’t help but think of Victor when something HOT... HARD...and POWERFUL is in between his legs. *fans herself and reaches for ice cold water to drink* OH LAWRDY...
> 
> ~FC  
> 
> 
> ______
> 
>    
>  Honestly, I remember when we were working on our individual bits and FC finished _this_ bit about Jim’s ride around Gotham and... uh... let’s just say, my nether bits were in a bit of a (looks sheepishly side to side) “state”!
> 
> DAMB. Good LORT that was hawt… and then that chase? <3 :3
> 
>  
> 
> _*Jess stretches an impossibly wide grin at the promise of the upcoming chapter.*_
> 
>  
> 
> }8> -o-


	8. Those Three Little Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim lures the assassin into a cat and mouse game out of Gotham City limits.

 

Jim zips down a long lonely highway road. There are no campers or tourists heading to the national park at this time of year. He looks behind him and sees that Victor is having a hard time catching up. Jim chuckles and keeps gunning it for miles. Once the woods start to thicken, he knows he isn’t too far from where he wants to stop.

He quickly slows down and comes to a rolling stop at the side of the road. He maneuvers his bike down close to the edge of the forest. He takes the key out in time to see Victor is seconds from doing the same. 

 

 

Jim runs into the woods; he wants Victor to hunt him… catch him… _fuck him_. He runs faster through the woods, hurdling large roots and dodging brush. His eyes finally adjust to darkness beyond the patches of moonlight. He smiles at how much running through the wild feels like riding his motorcycle— _he’s_ _completely free._

Victor can scarcely believe when Jim slows and parks before rushing into a wooded area.

 

 

He quickly pulls up beside Jim’s bike and does the same. He charges forward, hoping the close the gap between them.  

As he races to catch up with Jim, it strikes him how much quieter it is out here. The sights... the sounds... the _smells_... He can hear the satisfying crunch of snapping twigs and leaves as he propels himself forward. Past the sound of his own breathing and his heart pumping, he can hear the rhythmic rustling and swishing of his jacket and his trousers. He sees Jim further up. His eyes narrow as he runs faster.

Jim can hear Victor’s heavy footfalls chasing him through the wild. His own breath expelling hard as he makes his way through dark terrain; small patches of pale moonlight help illuminate the trek further in.

He takes a quick look back, but he can hardly see his pursuer.

There’s a wisp of pale skin and maybe the rustle of clothes. Jim’s labored breathing sounds amplified in the silent woods. He keeps running, but soon finds himself losing steam. He hasn’t eaten since lunch and here it is somewhere past midnight. He runs around a large tree and leans against the bark, trying to catch his breath.

He finds being chased by Victor exhilarating, primal… _sexual_. He can feel the angry throb of his painful erection. His body aches to be touched, taken and crushed by Victor.

Victor barrels after Jim, his dick swelling with the pursuit. The heat spreads as he watches Jim slow to navigate around a large tree. He hurries, fearing he’ll lose him.

Zsasz runs until he arrives at the same tree, slowing just enough to round it without losing his footing. When he turns, he sees Jim bathed in moonlight, chest heaving but unmoving from where he stands.

 

 Victor looks deeply into his eyes and rapidly closes in, his blood pumping and hunger growing. He rushes Jim and reaches for his neck.

Jim stares at Victor mesmerized, his breathing still heavy, labored… painful. The assassin seems to emerge from around the tree like a spectre, manifesting from thin air. His pale white skin glowing in the moonlight, a divine creature of the night hunting him for sport. Jim’s heart races as a prickling of fear grips him.

He sees Victor charge at him with an outstretched hand. Jim gasps, smacks the reaching hand away and bolts again, his speed not as strong as before. He stumbles around another tree but he sees that Victor isn’t deterred or slowing as much as he is. He turns with heaving breaths, trying to stay ahead of him.

Victor doesn’t relent from his pursuit. He watches Jim forge ahead, rounding a second tree regardless of how winded he is. Zsasz’s cock is aching, the pang growing acute.

He narrows his eyes and closes in. Jim’s now within arm’s reach.

 He takes determined steps forward and grabs the man’s arm, yanking him close and staring him down.

Jim feels the clamp of hand, the sudden yanking, and his body slapping against Victor’s solid form. He struggles weakly. His fight almost spent, he needs Victor in more ways than he should.

_Victor…_

_...what have you done to me?_

His heart is racing, his fatigue from running evident. He feels weak but continues to resist. He is caught up in the heat of the chase and wanting to forever be pursued by his pale lover.

_To always feel the primal magnetism that has always drawn me to him._

Victor yanks Jim forward and takes the man’s neck in his other hand. He crushes his mouth to Jim’s, surprised at his spontaneous groan once his tongue enters _that fucking mouth_.

 

 

Jim wraps his free hand around the hand on his neck. Victor’s mouth dives in and he stops struggling for a split second. That invading tongue, encompassing lips, and scraping teeth send a shiver through him. His mind slipping into the moment, but still he struggles pathetically.

Victor releases the detective’s forearm and reaches around the man’s waist to pull him forward. Zsasz is painfully hard. He draws Jim closer, grinding against him. He impatiently reaches down and grabs Jim’s ass to draw him flush against his hips. Victor hungrily crushes his mouth against Jim’s, already grunting when he crams his tongue further into the man's mouth.  

Jim, exhausted and losing all of his fight, succumbs to Victor’s will. He starts to get light-headed as Victor proceeds to have his way. Jim can hardly breathe with how far Victor’s tongue is down his throat. He feebly tries to push Victor off, turning his head to escape his mouth just so he can get a full breath in.

 Victor anchors a foot to ground himself against Jim’s pushes. He releases Jim and wedges his hands beneath the detective’s arms, separating them. He grabs Jim’s jacket collar and forces his mouth to his neck, biting and flicking his tongue against it.

Jim can feel himself jerked forward and met with teeth. Jim gasps out loud and then hisses, his body heat rising instantaneously. He snakes an arm around Victor’s shoulder as he throws his head back to allow the hungry mouth more neck to devour. He presses his body flush to Victor’s, moaning loudly.

He thrusts his hips in slow ruts on Victor as their erections meet through thick fabric. Jim gasps and shudders at how hard and ready Victor feels.

Zsasz’s body charges with the offered neck. Jim’s hardened cock against him makes his throb back in response, his hips thrusting. He returns his mouth to Jim’s, knocking their teeth together as his tongue delves further into his mouth. Victor moans and claws at Jim’s belt buckle.

Jim rips Victor’s hands off him and quickly descends to his knees before Zsasz can grab at him again. His nimble fingers make quick work of the belt, buttons and zipper standing in his way of Victor’s large cock. Jim can hear himself grunting and growling in frustration as he works the barriers between him and his prize. Once the buttons and zipper are loose, Jim grabs the waistbands of Victor’s pants and boxers, ripping them down past his cock.

Jim purrs when he is finally face to face with the familiar large dick.

Victor soon finds himself tugged and pulled by impatient hands. Not only is he heady from the chase, but being this close to Jim makes him ache… _want…_ _need…_ He can scarcely control his breathing and begins twitching the moment Jim descends and liberates him from his trousers. He shudders in the familiar grip… his cock _so close to that. fucking. mouth._ Zsasz moans and pushes himself further into _that_ hand.

“ _Fuck, Jim._ ”

Jim gently takes Victor’s shaft into his left hand and strokes him ever so softly. He looks up at Victor’s face and purrs.

“Have you been thinking of me, baby?”

Jim gives the head a quick swipe with his tongue. He grins up at Victor but quickly returns his attention to the throbbing flesh in his hand.

_God I’ve missed your hard fucking dick._

Victor shudders with Jim’s indulgent swipe, involuntarily nodding. His answer spills from his lips before he can even think to answer.

_“Yesss.”_

Jim grasps Victor a bit firmer and takes one long lingering lick from his nuts to the tip of his dick. He inserts the head into his mouth and releases the shaft; the tip of his tongue resumes tickling all around the thick blunt head.

Jim urgently unzips his jacket and shrugs out of it, tossing it to the side. He then rips the buttons off his shirt and yanks it out of his pants.

His right hand comes up and grasps onto Victor’s shaft. Jim abandons his task of removing his clothes to focus on Victor. Jim inserts Victor all the way into his mouth, inching him further in while his left hand plays with his balls.

Zsasz is forfeit Jim’s hand and mouth. His head falls back and rests on his shoulders as he surrenders. He tries to breathe, to settle and calm himself, but the past weeks away from Jim have felt like an eternity.

_If he keeps this up, I’m gonna blow at any moment._

Victor comes to his senses when Jim begins ripping off his clothes. He follows suit and shrugs out of his holster and his jacket, tossing them aside, but Jim’s voracious mouth causes him to struggle with his buttons. All he can seem to manage is thrusting more urgently.

Jim manages to yank his shirt off; he removes his hands from Victor to start unbuckling his belt. He finds his breaths hard to come by when Victor starts thrusting deeper and harder into his throat. He slowly slides his mouth off the aggressive cock, giving the head a quick suck.

He lets the cock rest up against Victor’s body as he licks all along the length, his own fingers feverishly working his own pants loose.

Victor’s enraptured with Jim’s sucking, but sighs with relief when the man finally releases him so he can momentarily regain his senses. He makes quick work of his vest and shirt, then tries toeing off his boots until he realizes their still tied.

 

 

Jim pulls back from lavishing licks on Victor’s shaft. He quickly stands and smiles lasciviously. He takes the opportunity to toe off his own boots and wiggle out of his pants and boxers. Once fully naked, Jim steps in closer to Victor, grasps both of their cocks in one hand as he licks at Victor’s mouth.

Zsasz’s jaw slackens at the sight of Jim naked, bathed in moonlight: Ready. Waiting. _Wanting._ He groans and shudders when Jim takes them both in his hand. He surrenders to _that mouth. That tongue._

Victor grabs behind Jim’s neck and claws at his ass to draw him closer, desperate to feel Jim’s body. His nipples harden and hips thrust into the man’s hand. He leans down and crushes his mouth to Jim’s, moaning into it.

Jim meets Victor’s hungry lips... _those lips_ … the ones he only ever _dreams_ of. The ones he only ever _fantasizes_ about. He begins stroking the both of them for a few pumps then pulls his mouth away to utter.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

He removes his hand from their erections and takes a step back.

Victor immediately falls to a knee to untie and remove a boot, tossing it aside. He quickly repeats the process with the other before standing to impatiently yank his trousers down and off, kicking them aside. He rises before Jim, jaw slack and chest heaving.

Jim quickly approaches Victor, pressing his body closer. He takes Victor’s left hand and brings it to his mouth. Jim inserts Victor’s index and middle finger and closes his lips around them, his tongue wiggling all around and in between them. He then collects both their cocks back into his right hand and begins pumping again. Jim moans as he sucks and slurps at the digits. The momentum of his hand increases ever so slightly. Their precum begins to coat his palm, making it easier for him to slide them both in his grip.

Victor wantonly moans when his fingers enter Jim’s mouth. He falters with the exquisite sensation of Jim’s teeth and tongue, adrift in the greedy mouth urgently sucking his fingers and drawing them deeper.

Zsasz is soon drunk with pleasure; his body jerks and takes over. He shamelessly ruts into Jim’s hand and against his thick, delicious dick. He begins slipping… his warmth gathering… his haunches clenching.

“ _Jim._ _Shit_.”

Jim removes his hand from the both of them. He brings his right hand up and slips Victor’s fingers from his mouth. He chuckles and bites his lower lip as he guides Victor’s hand below, past his erection and aching balls to his heat.

“No blowing before we get to what _I want_. Finger me.”

Jim moans as he leans in and kisses Victor’s chin, trailing kisses all along his jawline. He anticipates the insertion… the swirling… the feel of fingers massaging that one spot that makes him shudder.

Victor’s face splits into a wide grin. He shakes his head and wraps a hand behind Jim’s neck to draw him in for a deep, open-mouthed kiss. He presses their foreheads together and gazes deeply into the man’s eyes.

“Yes, _sir_.”

Victor slowly slides in the first digit. His jaw slackens as he breaches Jim and that familiar warmth envelops him.

_It’s been so fucking long._

He slides out and back in again, before adding a second digit… moaning louder with Jim’s tightening swelter. His cock jerks with anticipation.

“You feel _so fucking good_ inside.”

Jim grabs Victor’s face and licks at his mouth before crushing his lips to him. He can feel him deep inside, wiggling and exploring. He lets out a gasp as his fingers hit that special place inside of him. His breaths turn to panting as his lips continue their assault on Victor’s mouth.

Jim grabs their cocks in his right hand and resumes stroking them both, his mouth still eating at Victor’s as he swirls and shimmies his fingers deep inside.

Jim’s muscles twitch and jerk as he stirs. Victor closes his eyes and moans, almost whimpering as he reaches further. He wants to crawl up inside the man... to lose himself in _Jim’s_ scent… _Jim’s_ sounds… _Jim’s_ mouth… _Jim’s_ hand. He feels the heat gather and build behind his dick, the aching deep in this balls. He thrusts harder.  _Faster_.

He pulls away from Jim’s mouth and cups the side of his face. Zsasz gazes deeply into his eyes, all the while fingering him and frantically rutting into his hand.

Jim closes his eyes and leans into _his_ hand. He can feel the heat below build rapidly. He can feel Victor’s urgency as he pumps wildly into his hand and against his dick. Jim shakily gasps and opens his eyes. He gazes into those gorgeous dark eyes, lost in their depths. He’s lost in Victor’s touch… lost in those lips… lost in his motions….

Jim inhales a quick breath to temper himself before releasing their cocks. He grabs Victor’s chin as he growls.

“Lay down.”

Zsasz blinks with the sudden loss of contact and Jim’s gravelly command. He works to regain control of his breathing and descends to a knee before lying back on the ground, momentarily confused by the grass tickling his back. He expectantly gazes up at the man towering above him, the moon looming high above, framed by the tree line. Victor is struck dumb at the sight.

_The way he looks out here… He’s looking at me the way he used to._

Jim grins down at the ghostly white man, who lies in wait for him to descend to the forest floor. The eerie glow about Victor that Jim can’t seem to get over is much more pronounced out here under the moonlight. He seems like an apparition, more ethereal than real.

Jim quickly joins him. He gets on all fours and takes Victor’s cock in a hand. He brings his mouth down and lavishes long wet licks all around the tip and shaft. After thoroughly wetting him, Jim quickly straddles Victor, unable to wait a second longer; he needs to feel his hardness deep inside. After spending most of the night thinking of Victor… his hard body _thrusting_ … his cock _throbbing_ … that mouth _kissing_ … those teeth _biting…_ Jim’s body burns to feel... see... hear Victor _lose control_.

Jim guides Victor to him and slowly slips the tip in. He inhales a shaky gasp, lost in the fog of desire.

“Oh Vi—ctor!”

Victor’s practically shuddering with anticipation as Jim descends, even before the man swallows him. The moment he reaches for Jim, the man immediately straddles him. Victor groans with the sublime drag and pull, the torridity immediately spreading throughout his hips and thighs. Jim’s heat, like _home_.

_“Jim… ffffuck!”_

Jim shudders and moans as he glides down all the way onto Victor. He throws his head back as his body quakes with delight. He takes a moment to enjoy the feel, the tightness of the initial breach. The delicious first drag. With his head still back, Jim leans back and begins to slowly roll and grind onto Victor. He missed how hard and strong Victor feels between his legs. The heat he emits when he’s caught in his folds. The jolt of his throbbing cock against his tight hole.

Jim lets out a deep moan as his body picks up speed, grinding down hard on Victor.

Victor looks up at Jim through hooded eyes. His jaw is slack and hips already shuddering. Zsasz’s breath catches in his throat as Jim lowers himself further onto him. The head of his cock fills Jim, pushing in deeper and deeper. He’s drunk with desire as Jim’s deepest muscles clamp down on him and those warm thighs envelop him… that grind… the push... the pull… He looks up as Jim’s tosses his head back… panting… _moaning._

Victor glides his palms up Jim’s thighs and reaches for his haunches. He digs his fingers into his ass and urgently thrusts upward to meet Jim’s grinding hips.

Jim brings his head back to look down at Victor when he feels his hands grab tightly onto his hips. He meets Victor’s thrusts with his own. The tightness and heat begins to build deep inside him. His hands reach down and hold onto Victor’s. He gazes down at that beautiful face, that sweet mouth open as his lover pants and grunts… those _piercing_ eyes watching him. Jim bites his lower lip as his body is rocked up and down, Victor’s length probing harder and faster.

Jim lets out a long moan, his face flushing with heat as the bloom deep inside grows stronger. He is so near bursting.

“There… there… Victor! _Fuck me!”_

Victor tightly clutches Jim’s hands and feverishly thrusts up into him, wanting desperately for him to cum. He grunts louder as he forges forward, the tightness gathering behind his dick. Low. _Deep._ He soon begins slipping. His thrusting grows frenetic.

“ _Jim…_ ”

Jim holds tightly onto Victor’s hands; he can feel himself losing his senses to the flood of heat. And immediately after… his orgasm… it hits him _hard_. Jim throws his head back as his hips work frantically on Victor’s cock, wanting to feel his hardness further inside. To keep Victor deep in his body and never lose him again. His muscles clench hard as he bursts long hot ropes all over Victor. He grunts so loudly he’s sure his throat will be sore for days.

“Fu——ck! Oh God! _I’ve missed you!_ ”

It’s all Victor can do to continue working Jim as he rides out his orgasm. He’s overwhelmed by the waves of his own pleasure, pulsing outward. He jerks and thrusts, howling as he gushes inside Jim.

_“JJJIIIIMMM!!!! FUUUUUUCK!!!!”_

Victor continues thrusting. Once his pleasure begins to ebb, he yanks Jim down. He envelops the man in his arms, tightly grasping him and stroking his hair. Victor’s words catch in his throat.

“I’ve... missed this. You.”

He swallows thickly.

“ _I’ve missed you_.”

Jim can feel his heart racing as his body settles from his orgasmic high. He shivers and nestles onto Victor’s chest, curling his hand under his chin. He can hear Victor’s heart beating fast and hard, its rhythm mirroring his own. Jim inhales a breath.

His body begins to shudder; there are many things he wants to say to Victor, but he finds each word insufficient to convey the correct meaning.

He strokes his fingertips on Victor’s chest, feeling the raised marks on his skin. Jim swallows and finally says.

“I’m sorry.”

Victor’s shocked by the welling behind his eyes and furiously blinks it back. He inhales a ragged breath and swallows loudly enough that he hears it, knowing Jim probably did too. He shakes his head as he kisses the top of Jim’s and strokes his hair.

“No, Jim. _I’m_ sorry.”

He clenches his teeth.

“For _all_ of it.”

Jim takes a small shaky breath in as hot searing tears spill down his face. He gets on his palms and looks down at Victor. He can feel a steady stream of tears roll down; he’s positive that they’re hitting Victor’s face. He inhales a shaky breath before he asks.

“What are we doing, Victor?”

He climbs off of Zsasz and sits on the ground, untroubled by the prickly raw feel of nature on his skin.

Victor sits up and maneuvers himself in front of Jim, first looking to the ground hoping some answer will materialize, but it doesn’t. He takes a deep breath, looks back up at Jim and reaches for his face.

Victor has no answer: at least not a good or easy one. The best he can manage is to plagiarize the words Jim said in that garage—the first time he took Jim in his hand and made him cum.

“I don’t know.”

He hesitates.

“I just know I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Jim shakes his head.

“You... have to. I… have to. And…”

Jim swallows. He slowly reaches for Victor’s hand. He glides his fingers over the back of his hand, taking it in his own and pulling it towards him. He slowly shuffles close to Victor so that he is side by side with him. He glides the fingers of his right hand in between the long slender fingers of Victor’s left. Jim looks up into his eyes.

“I know what I’m doing is only making things difficult. The Pax Penguina is something I _have to stop_ and I know Oswald will send you after me soon.”

Jim takes a deep breath.

Victor knows Jim’s right. He knows Jim will never yield to Penguin. Jim is uncompromising. It’s not in his nature. It was those very qualities that first garnered Victor’s abiding respect for the man. He shakes his head and inhales a deep breath, warring with himself and struggling with his next words.

Victor’s not the type to ask _anyone_ for _anything_. He’s too proud. Yet, he fears the inevitable consequences of Jim’s stand against Penguin. Victor grits his teeth and rubs his mouth. He knows he’s about to suggest the impossible, but does so nonetheless.

“Don’t give him a reason to.”

Jim looks up, he offers Victor a sad smile and kisses his hand.

“I should have been strong enough—when I disappeared. I should have told you.”

Jim releases Victor’s hand and takes in a deep breath. He closes his eyes and forces himself to say the words he was always so scared to say.

“Goodbye, Victor.”

Jim gets up and gathers his clothes.

Victor’s dumbstruck, temporarily unable to breathe… think… move…. He blinks and shakes his head in response to the pangs in his chest. It takes him a moment to register that Jim has begun gathering his clothes. Zsasz quickly stands and grabs his arm.

“Jim. _Wait_.”

Jim turns around as he gathers his pants, his head aching as badly as his heart.

“For?”

Victor knits his brow and struggles to answer. All he knows is he doesn’t want Jim to leave. He doesn’t want to lose him again, despite having no clue how things could possibly work between them given who they are and the worlds they inhabit.

“I just…”

Victor shakes his head and blinks, his chest painfully tight. He stammers to say words he never dreamed he’d ever say to _anyone_.

“I… I don’t want you to go, Jim. I don’t know how to… _be_ without you anymore.”

Jim hangs his head and slowly turns to face Victor. He leans his head on his chest.

“You have to. I wish things were different but they’re not. Please... _set me free_.”

Jim inhales a sharp breath and lets out a strangled sob. He wants to tell Victor how much he means to him. How much he wishes they could forever be as they are now. Wild… free… and _with each other_.

Victor takes Jim into his arms, strokes the side of his face and leans down to kiss him. He takes an unsteady breath and nods with resolve, not because he _wants_ to, but because he _has_ to. He swallows thickly.

“If that’s what you want.”

He gazes deeply into Jim’s eyes. His brow furrows as he finally musters the courage to say the words he could only say to Jim’s sleeping face the last night they spent together.

“But no matter what, Jim. _I’m yours_.”

Jim reaches up and kisses Victor. His heart wants to break into a million pieces. The last words affirming to his pale lover that he was his alone, _no matter what_. _No matter what_ may drive them from each other…. _no matter what_ stands in their way… _no matter what_ comes. He belongs to Victor.

A realization hits Jim. He takes Victor’s hand as he bends down to grab his jacket.

“Wait…”

He stands back up, releasing Victor to dig through his jacket pocket; he pulls out the boxcutter. He takes a deep breath in and sadly whispers.

“Before I go, I think you owe me another mark.”

He smiles the best he can.

Victor soberly nods and takes his beloved boxcutter from Jim’s hand. He descends to the ground and expectantly gazes up, waiting for Jim to join him on his lap one final time.

Jim gets on his knees and shuffles close as he straddles Victor’s lap so his previous marks are exposed. He wraps his arms around Victor’s shoulders and gives him a soft kiss. He takes Victor’s hand with the boxcutter and guides it to his waiting leg.

Before Victor makes the final incision, he reverently runs his finger pads along the four tallies on Jim’s thigh. He slowly traces the nineteenth with a finger, the incision so much longer and deeper than the others. Victor takes his boxcutter and sinks it into Jim’s thigh. He stretches out the long diagonal drag and chokes out the number of the final tally.

“ _Twenty_.”

Jim holds Victor’s face in both hands and whispers.

“I’m yours...

... _I love you, Victor_.”

Jim plants a soft kiss on his lips then takes the boxcutter from Victor’s hand. He quickly gets up and slips on his pants and boots. He begins to walk away, tucking the boxcutter into his jacket pocket. He doesn’t want to linger any longer. He can feel the onset of another meltdown; he does his best to push it all down as he makes his way through the woods.

Victor remains seated on the ground, strangling the sob in his throat as he watches Jim retreat back into the woods. He doesn’t bother wiping the tear that spills down his face as he solemnly rises to gather his clothes.

 

—>j<—

Jim speeds his way back to the Westchester hotel. His body aching, his fresh tally mark stinging, his mind… numb.

Victor’s words stuck forever in his head.

_“I… I don’t want you to go, Jim. I don’t know how to… be without you anymore.”_

Jim feels the same. He doesn’t know how to move on without him. He doesn’t know if he will ever get over _him_. In the moment, it seems like it will be never.

_If we both gave up everything that makes us who we are, would we still want each other?_

Jim believes that answer is _no._

He makes his way into the hotel and up to the floor. He exits the elevator and heads to the suite. He sees the door opening down the small hallway. Gabrielle is standing there with a wide-eyed expectant expression. He looks relieved… worried… _upset_. Jim swallows, and continues towards him.

“Jim, I was concerned for you. _It’s three in the morning_. I thought maybe you got into an accident. I called you several times.”

Jim can feel his guilt rise, the hard clenching in his gut. His self-loathing only compounds with the look on Gabrielle’s face. He was out seeking the love and comfort of a man who can provide none... a man who haunts his every waking minute… a man to whom he’s irrevocably tied.

Jim loves Victor even if that very love is killing him.

_When Victor is ordered to come after me, will I have the strength to stop him? Kill him before he kills me?_

Jim wraps his arms around Gabrielle’s waist and leans in to kiss his lips. The man returns the exchange after his initial shock dissipates. Large arms wrap around him as thick soft lips tenderly meet his.

_Not Victor... not his lips… not sweet… not his scent… not Victor._

Jim pulls back a little and hangs his head.

“I’m sorry. I ran into my ex… I haven’t been fair to you. I realize I come with a lot of baggage and nowhere to rest it. I want to rest it with you. I want to be with you. If you will still have me?”

Gabrielle wraps his arms tighter around Jim and beams him a smile.

“Like you even need to ask. Jim, I’m patient because I find myself caring for you. I know your life is hard. I want to take care of you. I want to be that safe place you to run to… to be _at peace_.”

Jim melts into his arms. Even if in the moment he is using Gabrielle to get over Victor. He could come to care for him one day, _maybe_.

_But never as much as I love Victor._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Uhhhhhhhh... Yeah Jim said it. “I love you.” To a man who may or may not dispose of him if given the command. Jim is a messed up puppy. Then to tell Zsasz ‘it’s over’?! Holy fresh hell. Oh wait, *looks at the menu* Holy Fresh Hell is next after the first course we just got here. 
> 
> I toiled when Jim was going say those three little words to Victor. I was actually thinking of springing it on Jess a lot later but I think after it was all said and done the timing was just right. If you stick around you will understand. Jim saying it first plays HEAVILY towards the ending...so so SO heavily.
> 
> ~FC  
> 
> 
> ______
> 
>  
> 
> _*Jess shakes her head at Deya’s cryptic final sentence.*_
> 
>  
> 
> This f*cking chapter! This is NOT the GorZsasz/Jisz Jess ordered! But oh my GOODNESS, talk about some drama of the highest f*cking order! But sweet. Baby. JEEBUS, talk about HAWT… and then crazy angsty. This is too much for my tiny black Zsasz heart! 
> 
> I gotta say that Jim droppin’ “those three little words” had Zsasz/me kinda reeling. I was like uhh... WHUT?! Victor is so phuccin’ out of his depth never having been involved with anyone beyond a casual f*ck only to find himself completely strung out and unable to walk away from Jim. This poor man is like WTF is happening to me? And then *this* of all things? And THEN Jim’s like ‘kay, bye! I’m out!
> 
> This fic has really challenged me insofar as writing Victor. How much is too much? How would someone like Victor react to this whole thing? Ugh. Crossing my fingers, eyes, arms and legs that I deliver the goods for those of you kind enough to read.
> 
> }8> -o-
> 
> For those of you who wanna revisit that nineteenth tally Victor carved into Jim, check out the final chapter of Boxcutter.


	9. Penguin’s Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor delivers Penguin’s message to Harvey. Jim discovers unsettling news about the assassin’s past actions.

Harvey is storming from the one on one meeting with the commissioner. It isn’t even past noon and he already had his ass handed to him for Jim’s stunt yesterday. Harvey’s mood simmers as he makes his way to business central to hit up Dion’s food truck. The man has expanded to lunchtime sandwiches; they’re just as excellent as his breakfast ones. Harvey stopped eating at Lem’s Deli for the sheer fact that Zsasz spoiled that establishment for him for all time.

As he nears the area where most food trucks park for the lunchtime crowds, he sees many first responders and an ambulance on the scene. Harvey hurries out of his car and through the crowds. There was some kind of chaos: overturned tables, one food truck on fire, and a few people sitting at picnic tables hurt and bleeding. There are several paramedics on the ground trying to save someone. Harvey sees Officer Romero as he quickly shoves his way through.

“Captain Bullock!”

Harvey’s eyes are transfixed on the scene with the paramedics. His heart is pumping; he looks and sees that they are in front of Dion’s truck. With eyes wide and jaw dropping he hurries to where the paramedics are busy strapping someone to a gurney. He finally sees that it's indeed his friend.

“No… no. Dion! Shit. No! Is he goin’ to make it?! How bad are his wounds? I’m Captain Bullock; tell me!”

One of the medics shouts back as they hurry with the man.

“Multiple gunshot wounds. We are doing everything to get him stabilized!”

Harvey whips around and looks at Romero, his voice trembling as he addresses her.

“What happened?!”

Romero sighs and shakes her head then firmly states.

“Licensed robbers, they raided all the trucks and shot several people. That man, Dion Jackson, tried to stop them.”

Officer Romero holds her hard gaze at the Captain.

Harvey takes a few steps back, his hands going to his head. His stomach starts cramping; he can feel the acid rise. He fumbles for his phone and calls Jim.

Jim and Gabrielle are at lunch.

“I was wondering if tonight we could go out? There’s a firework display happening downtown tonight, at Gotham park. We could walk there from the hotel. Have some drinks and play some carnival games.”

Jim smiles and nods. He does his best to be _in the moment_ with Gabrielle. His thoughts have been on Zsasz the entire day. He’s surprised he functioned at all at work. His phone rings.

“Harv.”

“Jim…(heavy panting). Jim…(sobbing).”

Jim sits up in his chair.

“Harvey, what is it? Breathe. What’s wrong? Tell me.”

Harvey leans against a picnic table and slumps onto the seat. He takes a big breath in.

“Dion, man. He got shot. Fuckin’ licensed robbers raided the food trucks and shot a bunch of people. Dion… I… I don’t think he’s gonna make it.”

Jim looks at Gabrielle with wide eyes. Dion is primarily Harvey’s friend. However, Jim has talked with the man multiple times. Bad guy turned good, hard worker and one hell of a sense of humor. Jim liked the guy.

“Harv, where are you now?”

Harvey rushes to his car.

“I’m headed to the precinct. I wanna go to the hospital, I just gotta make a couple of calls to his wife and sister. I have their numbers in my office.”

Jim stands and flags down a waiter. Gabrielle stands with him, a huge look of concern on his face.

“Jim, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Jim holds up a finger and addresses Harvey.

“I’ll be on my way to the precinct as fast as possible. We will go to the hospital together. Alvarez is on duty tonight; he can watch over things for a bit.”

Jim ends the call and hands the waiter cash for the lunch.

“Harvey’s friend got shot at lunch today. I’m going to go drive him to the hospital. Sorry for cutting lunch so short.”

Gabrielle helps Jim gather his coat.

“It’s okay, mi raggio di sole. You need to be with your friend. Traffic is going to be bad leaving this area. Hopefully, he is not waiting too long; come.”

______

Harvey screeches into the GCPD motorpool and quickly makes his way into the garage. Harvey parks and hurries out of his car. He sees Alvarez heading to the doors of the building. He calls out.

“Alvarez!”

The detective hurries over to the captain.

“Captain Bullock, what did you need?”

“I’m gonna be gone to the hospital; Jim is gonna be with me. Need ya to watch over things for a bit.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks man.”

Alvarez heads back inside.

Harvey is about to follow the detective when he realizes he left his phone in his car. He hustles over to his sedan and unlocks the driver’s side door. He finds his phone on the passenger seat. He leans in to retrieve it.

 

—>z<—

Victor struggles with the pangs in his gut and chest the entire ride to the GCPD.

He’s done nothing but think endlessly about Jim and their final coupling the night prior: the chase, the woods, Jim taking them both into his hand, peering up as Jim stood above him, cumming inside Jim and embracing him one final time. He can still hear Jim’s parting words:

_“I’m yours…_

_…I love you, Victor.”_

This time, Zsasz _knows_ it’s real. Jim really _has_ broken things off and he _has_ to let him go _._

_“You have to. I wish things were different but they’re not. Please... set me free.”_

Zsasz thinks back on carving the final tally into Jim with his boxcutter—the one he obsessed over for _years_. The one he used to carve _every._ _last._ _one_ of his confirmed kills before Jim claimed it… the boxcutter he was surprisingly able to relinquish because it no longer felt like his anymore.

_It belongs to Jim now… like I do._

He grits his teeth and steadies himself as he zips his Yamaha into a space close to the precinct. He takes a deep breath.

 _Get. your._ **_shit_ ** _together, Zsasz. Get your_ **_fucking_ ** _head in the game._

As luck would have it, Bullock’s pulling up and speeding into the motorpool. Zsasz watches as the man slams his car into park and rushes out to shout after a man _Alvarez?_ entering the precinct.  
  
Victor quickly dismounts his Yamaha and approaches the motorpool, looking from side to side. After the Alvarez guy enters the building, Zsasz concludes Bullock is alone. He closes in on the salty veteran who’s returning to his vehicle.

When Bullock’s distracted and reaching into his car, Victor forcefully grabs the collar of his trenchcoat and yanks him out, ensuring the codger hits the back of his head.

Harvey is busy reaching for his phone when he feels the back of his collar yanked and before he can react, his head hits his car. He lets out a loud grunt as he is pulled and shimmied out.

Victor puffs out a satisfied chuckle at the sound of Bullock’s pained grunt and quickly spins the man around to face him. Zsasz grabs the first two fingers of Harvey’s hand with lightning speed.

Harvey is in complete shock as he faces down Zsasz who has him pinned against his opened car door. He feels his fingers scooped up in the assassin’s iron grip. He stammers out.

“Wh-wh-whoa! What da— _fuck?_ ”

Victor leans closer into Bullock’s face and flashes his teeth. He tightens his grip around the man’s fingers, twisting and torquing them towards his thumb. A grin pulls at Zsasz’s face as he anticipates the satisfying snap that’s certain to come at any moment.

“Gotta message for ya, Bullock.”  
  
Victor’s grin stretches impossibly wide as he wrenches and snaps the man’s fingers. Zsasz delights in the sights and sounds of Harvey’s anguish. He has been _itching_ to get his hands on Bullock ever since he made that fucking remark at Lem’s _weeks_ ago.

 _“_ ** _You’re_ ** _not good enough for_ **_him_** _!”_

Zsasz chuckles with smug satisfaction as he watches the crank grimace and yowl. He leans in to deliver Penguin’s message, swallowing down the bile as he recalls The Boss’ words about keeping Jim on a “shorter leash”. Zsasz growls.

“If you don’t rein Jim in, he’s gonna become _Penguin's_ problem.”

The sickening feel of his fingers twisting and hyperextending to the point of snapping forces out a gurgly wail from deep inside. Harvey’s face scrunches and contorts, his breaths heavy as he emits guttural noises from back of his throat. His gaze glued to Zsasz, the man says something but he didn’t hear most of it. He was more focused on the breaking of his own bones.

Harvey only hears what matters:  _“Penguin’s problem”._ He glares back at the assassin, breaths heavy and labored. He clenches his teeth; he can feel the word vomit rising despite being in terrible pain. He unleashes on the smug sadistic asshole.

“You’re _nothin’_ more than a glorified goon _lappin’ at_ Oswald’s shitty boots!”

The heat flashes in Victor’s gut. His jaw clenches and face hardens.

Harvey chuckles through gritted teeth.

_If I’m gonna get beat, might as well make it worth my while._

Harvey continues, undeterred by Victor’s hardening face and murderous expression. He growls low and deep.

“You. Were. _Never._ Good. Enough. For. Jim! No wonder he found himself another boyfriend! I guess he got tired of matzah balls coz he’s always out gettin’ Italian. I can’t say I blame him. Look at— _you! You’re a disgustin’ piece of shit_ — _and Jim’s moved on!_ ”

Harvey lets loose a thunderous sadistic laugh and waits for the next hit.

Victor’s eyes flash and teeth clench with Harvey’s taunting, especially when he throws Ricci in his face and repeats what he said at Lem’s—the words he has _never_ been able to get out of his head since the day he first heard them. However, it’s Bullock’s final words that _really_ enrage him.

 _ **Matzah balls?!**_ _Disgusting piece of_ **_shit_** _?!_

Victor rears his head back, headbutts Bullock back against his car and brutally pummels his face with both fists. He relentlessly assaults Harvey, violently knocking the man’s head to and fro with each punishing blow.

 _I’m gonna break every._ **_fucking_** _. bone. in this **asshole’s** face. _

The more Zsasz punches Bullock, the further he falls back into his car, making it challenging for the gunman to land clean punches. Undeterred, Victor continues mauling him. He grabs Bullock’s tie with his right hand so he can continue bashing his face with his left over and over and over again.

Harvey does his best to fight back and block the brutal blows, his adrenaline masking most of his immediate pain. His nose, broken, gushes blood all over the place. Still, despite the incoming blows, he gets in another jab at the enraged assassin.

“You fuckin’ _piece of shit!_ The thought of _you_ touchin’ Jim makes me sick! _Disgustin'_ freak! I hope you burn in hell!”

Harvey spits blood at Victor as the assassin wails on him like a crazed lunatic.

Victor’s now blind with rage, his bloodlust increasing exponentially. His instincts and body completely take over. His fury blinds him to everything but the man before him… the man he wants to destroy… to annihilate… to blot from the face of the fucking earth.

—

Jim exits Gabrielle’s car out in front of the GCPD and runs inside to meet up with Harvey. Jim makes it halfway through the bullpen when Alvarez hollers at him.

“Yo, Jim! Hey, I think Harvey is waiting for you in motorpool. He told me you two are headed to the hospital.”

“Okay, thanks!”

Jim races through the hallway that leads to the garage. He opens the door and hears the sounds of a scuffle not far off. He looks around and sees Victor pummeling Harvey in his car.

_Oh shit! No!_

Jim feels his heart sink and his stomach drop. He runs towards the distracted man, who is rendering his friend into a bloody stump.

Jim jumps on Victor’s arched back as he snakes his left arm around Victor’s neck. He squeezes down on his throat as he holds his choking arm firm with his right hand, locking it in place.

Jim quickly wraps his legs around Victor, the irony of having had his legs wrapped around him just last night isn’t lost on him.

Zsasz immediately stops bashing Bullock’s face and turns his attention to the person behind him. He grabs their arms, drops his weight and viciously rears back, forcing his attacker backward and slamming them into a nearby car with all the strength he can muster.

Jim feels himself falling backwards with Victor firmly in his choke hold. He suddenly finds himself smashing into a car; his back hits the passenger side mirror. The impact also knocks all the air out of his lungs, forcing a grunt out of him as he goes crashing onto the side of the car.

The mirror gets him right in the kidney. Jim’s arms go flying off Victor as he falls back against the vehicle; his body begins to contort as he slides to the ground.

Gabrielle heads to the motorpool after having been told where to find Jim. The detective exited out of his car so fast he accidentally left his phone on the passenger side seat.

Harvey struggles to reach for his side piece with his left hand. He sees Victor struggling with Jim; he doesn’t want to waste any time in case things take a deadly turn. Harvey can feel his eye puff up; he’s sure he has fractures all along his eye socket. Blood is still generously pouring from his pummeled nose, his right hand a terrible mess. He grabs his Glock and tries to get out of the car.

Victor feels his attacker’s hold finally relent. The arms that once held him grow slack and his attacker slumps down the vehicle. As his aggressor falls, Victor quickly rights himself and spins around. He rears his leg back and kicks his opponent in the ribs, forcefully expelling air from the pained man’s lungs.

His assailant curls from the force of the blow. Just as Zsasz heaves up his leg to stomp his face, he suddenly recognizes the crumpled figure on the ground. Victor’s eyes grow wide with shock.

_“Jim?”_

Zsasz grimaces and sets down his foot, immediately squatting to reach for the detective.

Jim can hear Victor call out to him. He’s unable to respond but does his best to look up. His body bashed and bruised, all he wants to do is curl up on himself. He takes in a few painful breaths and croaks out.

“Uuuuuh…(gasps)...V-v-i-c…(pants and grunts)...”

Jim gasps, struggling to get oxygen into his body. His ribs feel broken, but he didn’t hear them snap or crunch. His core muscles are rendered useless. He can feel deep waves of pain roll and radiate in his lower back.  

Harvey growls as he rears up his right foot and smashes it against Victor’s right shoulder. He grits his teeth as a lopsided smirk slowly manifests on his swollen face. He watches as the assassin topples over. He aims his Glock at the man who quickly rolls onto his back.

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch him! I will fuckin’ _kill you_ if you so much as _say_ _his name!_ "

Harvey keeps his gun aimed at Victor and goes to check on Jim. Harvey kneels down the best he can given how fucked up his face and hand are. He keeps his eyes on Zsasz as he asks.

“Jimbo, are you okay? Did that _asshole_ break anything?”

Jim writhes and thrashes. He can’t get in a real breath of air without it causing him severe pain. He’s unsure if his ribs are cracked. He can also feel his lower back spasming; he uncurls himself enough to respond.

“I… I… (inhales short breaths)... I don’t… uuuhhh.”

Jim can feel his face drenched in sweat. He looks towards Victor who is on his back, his dark eyes steady on Harvey. The enraged man has a sneer on his face and his fingers are twitching.

 

 

_He’s about to test Harvey._

Jim takes out his gun and tries his best to sit up. He steadies his sights on Victor as he grunts through the pain. Jim takes several small rapid breaths and says.

“Don’t …(grunts)... get any funny ideas, Victor!”

Jim’s stomach cramps hard while the ache in his chest increases. He can feel himself about to break down; he doesn’t want to shoot Victor. He grits his teeth and does his best to hide the overwhelming and conflicting emotions.

_If Victor hadn’t changed me so much I would have blasted him off of Harvey. Instead, I held back. How can I love someone like him when he goes around hurting people not out of principle but for money? But still... I DO love him. I’m sure Oswald sent him over to get my attention._

Jim thinks about how much he wishes he could pummel Oswald’s delicate features as bloody and broken as Harvey’s face was rendered— _if not more._

Gabrielle walks in on the scene; Jim sitting on the ground appearing hurt. The GCPD captain a bloody mess. Both men have their guns drawn and aimed at someone on the ground. He can’t see from his vantage point who it is. He calls out concerned.

“Jim!”

Jim turns his head when he hears his name. He sees that Gabrielle is approaching them. He quickly turns his gaze back to Victor and shouts through rough breaths.

“Go back inside, Gabrielle!”

Gabrielle halts from coming any closer. He doesn’t want to go inside without making sure Jim is okay.

Harvey, all puffed, broken, and bloodied, holds his glare. He growls at Victor.

 

 

“You tell Oswald to go _fuck_ himself! If I ever get a hold of him. _I’ll kill him myself!_ Go on _goon_ … go run to your master!”

Victor clenches his jaw. His face hot is with shame after having injured Jim and rage at the _asshole_ whose blood and spit he finally feels on his face—whose Glock is readied on him. If that weren’t enough, Jim also has _his_ standard issue on him.

 

 

Then Victor hears _his_ voice—quickly followed by Jim’s warning to keep _him_ from coming any closer.

Zsasz scowls as he slowly rises, his muscles quaking with fury. It takes every ounce of will he has not to draw his Sig and blast a hole in the middle of Bullock’s bloodied _and much_ _improved_ face.

Once Victor’s upright again, he locks eyes with _him:_

**_Excelsior 865._**

Zsasz’s face twists with rage. He takes a long seething stare at Hot Italian Model: whose fucking face is plastered on billboards all over Gotham… the face he should’ve carved off the night he forced his way into the man’s hotel room.

_I should’ve killed him when I had the chance._

The taste in his mouth turns bitter. His fists clench and chest starts heaving. Victor slowly wipes Bullock’s blood and spit across his face as his gaze narrows at the man.

 _That fucking_ **_coward_** _, Gabrielle Ricci, who wasn’t man enough to even_ **_admit_ ** _he knew Jim._

It’s _then_ that the shame and the anger _really_ hit Victor. That’s what _really_ hurts—not his pride because he’s been bested, but because Jim broke things off between them to be with someone like _him:_

_A gutless pretty boy who people fawn over because of his looks._

_A gutless pretty boy who doesn’t understand the brutal nature of our world._

_A gutless pretty boy who will **never** understand a **man** and a **warrior** like Jim Gordon. _

Victor recalls Jim’s words to him the previous night.

_“I wish things were different but they’re not. Please... set me free.”_

Victor tightens his jaw and briefly looks to the ground, fighting the temptation to look back at Jim. His body roils with rage. He spins on his heel and heads back to his Yamaha as the pangs in his gut and chest overwhelm him.

Jim watches as Victor stares down Gabrielle. Jim recognizes _that look;_ he feels his stomach drop and the bile rise.

_No… Victor… he knows about him. He knows about Gabrielle. Shit! I’m such a dumbass._

Gabrielle’s eyes pop wide open when he sees who it is. He swallows his fear down and runs over to Jim only after that strange bald man walks away.

“My Jim! What happened?”

Jim looks over to see Gabrielle descending on a knee to check on him. His heart drops; he never wanted Gabrielle to be seen while Zsasz is nearby. Jim quickly looks back at Victor who is still making his way to his motorcycle.

Harvey keeps an eye and gun on the retreating form of Victor Zsasz before addressing anyone around him.

Victor finally arrives at his V-Max and mounts it. He grits his teeth as he resentfully watches Ricci assist Jim and Bullock. He starts his engine, takes a deep breath and begins the difficult trek back to The Iceberg Lounge.

 

—>  <—

Mr. Freeze stands back and eyes the centerpiece. His eyes twinkle with the placement of one of his best human ice statues to date. He likes this one the best, that _Riddler_ guy caught in the throes of misery. He nods his head and surmises he could be a great artist, going around freezing people in various states of outwardly expressed emotions. He could have a gallery dedicated to his artistic tastes on the human condition. Freeze shakes his head and lets out a bemused chuckle.

“Nahhhhhh.”

Oswald turns to regard the frozen giant next to him. His right thumbnail in his mouth as his elbow rests on his left arm wrapped around his waist. He raises an eyebrow and splays the fingers of his right hand out as he asks.

“What?”

Freeze turns to Oswald and gives him a confused look, unsure why the small man is looking at him expectantly.

“Huh?”

Oswald rolls his eyes and scoffs. He mutters under his breath as he eyes the placement of his Edward centered on the club floor.

“It's a good thing you’re so handsome.”

Oswald waves at his men moving the huge ice block away.

“That’s perfect; leave him there. Okay Victor, go ahead and get the cooling units running before there’s a puddle.”

Zsasz takes a deep breath before entering the club. He thought endlessly about how badly he injured Jim the entire ride back and kicked himself over how far he allowed Bullock into his head. He steels himself to face Penguin and report on his assignment.

“Boss. It’s done.”

Freeze turns and regards the assassin as he walks past. He turns on the cooling units and makes his way over to stand next to Oswald. He wants to listen in on this conversation.

Oswald eyes Zsasz as he marches over to him. He does a double take, scrutinizing the assassin’s soiled appearance. His anger begins to simmer as his eyes roam Victor’s bloodied face. He shakes his head.

“What happened? _Did you kill him?_   Zsasz, I told you to only _break_ his fingers! I need that oaf alive!”

Zsasz shrugs.

“I broke his fingers like you asked. He’s not dead.”

Oswald blinks his lashes and grits his teeth. He closes his eyes and brings his right hand to his forehead as he rubs.

“Then _why_ is there blood all over your face, Victor?”

Victor presses his lips together, crosses his arms and puffs out a sigh.

“He uh… spit blood at me after I punched him… _a_ _lot_.”

Oswald lets out a heavy sigh and gruffs.

“How badly did you hurt him? Is he only mildly hurt or really hurt? Answer me in full sentences!”

Freeze walks up to Zsasz and inspects the state of his face and clothes. He chuckles and adds.

“Really get into your job, huh? Messy… messy. Little overzealous if you ask me. _Tsk._ ”

Zsasz grits his teeth and his chest start to heave. The corners of his mouth pull down. He envisions himself pummeling Fries’ face until it shatters into little ice shards all over the floor as Penguin watches on in horror. He takes a deep breath and rubs his hand over his mouth before returning his gaze to the kingpin.

_I did answer in full sentences._

“He could still pull his Glock on me, so I don’t think he’s hurt _that_ bad, but… he’s probably gonna need some surgery.”

Freeze turns from Victor and laughs. He walks behind Oswald and mutters.

“Send him on an easy task and the bozo gets carried away.”

Oswald erupts on Zsasz.

“ _You idiot!_ If Harvey is out and not at the GCPD playing illustrious captain to those _morons_ guess who _is?”_

Freeze quips to Oswald.

“He’ll _never_ figure it out.”

Victor slowly blinks and responds through clenched teeth.

“Jim Gordon.”

Freeze golf claps at Zsasz and then shakes his head. A smirk plays at his lips seeing the assassin slowly losing his composure.

Oswald slithers right up to Zsasz. His face mere inches from the assassin’s pale countenance.

“That’s right. _That_ thorn in my side… _Jim Gordon_. How long have we known each other, Victor?”

“A long time, Boss. Years. You were still Mooney’s umbrella boy and I still worked for Don Falcone.”

Oswald rage pricks; he bares his teeth and snarls.

“Yes… it’s been a _long time!_ And now— _you_ work for _—me!_ In all those years not once have you ever faltered in your duties as you do now. You disappoint me.”

Freeze shakes and lowers his head as he flashes Zsasz an open mouth smile, his eyes boring into him. His hands itching to grab his freeze ray and capture this moment in all its glory. He rolls his shoulders back as he stands ready.

Oswald crosses his arms as a smile plays at his lips. He wants to make Zsasz suffer for his backhanded comment.

“Well, since you rendered Harvey into a terrible mess, I imagine that didn’t go unnoticed. Was there anyone else around to see you bash their captain down? _”_

Zsasz rubs beneath his lower lip with the knuckle of his thumb.

“Not at first... but yeah. There at the end.”

Victor deeply inhales and exhales.

“Jim Gordon pulled me off Bullock.”

Oswald turns to Freeze as a sadistic smile plays at his lips. He returns his attention to his enforcer and takes a step closer as he looks Zsasz from top to bottom, his eyes taking in all the blood on Victor’s face.

“Oh, Jim was there? And what exactly did he _do?_ ”

The henchman presses his eyes and lips closed, his face hot with shame. He exhales a long huff from his nostrils.

“He uh…”

Zsasz uncomfortably shifts his weight.

“He jumped me and put me in a choke hold.”

Freeze jumps in and huffs, completely annoyed at the lack of details.

“Well? Did you just let him choke you out or did you fight back?”

Oswald beams Zsasz a large smile as he takes another step closer to him. His face looking up as he brings a thumbnail to his mouth to chew. He whispers.

“Yes, did you _fight_ back?”

Victor swallows down the rising bile and answers with reluctance.

“I uh… slammed him into car until he let me go and…”

He presses his lips together before continuing.

“I kicked him in the ribs.”

Oswald giggles and blurts out.

“Did you break some ribs on our _heroic_ Detective Gordon? Did he _suffer?_ Did _you_ enjoy it?”

Zsasz grits his teeth and tries to control the grimace pulling at his face.

“I dunno. Probably. I kicked him pretty hard. He… couldn’t breathe so well after and kinda thrashed around a little.”

Freeze scoffs. He eyes Oswald knowing what the small kingpin is going to ask next.

Oswald takes one final step and is right on Victor, a hair’s width away. He cranes his neck as all the veins in his head bulge. He hisses as his piercing gaze challenges Zsasz.

“ _Did_ … _you_ … _enjoy it?_ ”

Zsasz’s face burns with frustration and shame over injuring Jim, especially after everything that happened between them the night prior. All he can do is remember the shock and horror when he finally came to his senses and realized he’d hurt Jim— _badly_. Were it _any_ other person before him, Victor would be _savoring_ their anguish and boasting about it. He can still see Jim on the ground, struggling to breathe and barely able to right himself.

Victor knows he _has_ to answer. Penguin will _never_ relent and there is no way he can answer truthfully.

 _No, I didn’t enjoy it. I fucking hated it. I hate myself for doing it—even more than I hate you and Freeze. I wish it was your fucking face and Freeze’s head I’d kicked instead. Now_ **_that_ ** _I’d enjoy._

Victor gambles with his answer—hoping _this_ truth will be enough to piss Penguin off enough to cease his line of questioning.

“Really couldn’t say. Right after I did, Bullock pulled his Glock on me and told me to tell you to _go_ **_fuck_** _yourself_. And if he ever gotta hold of you, _he’d kill you himself._ ”

Oswald trembles as the words escape Victor’s mouth. He spins and turns his back to Zsasz. He gives Freeze a look as he addresses his enforcer.

“Well, I’ve known Harvey a very long time, almost longer than I’ve known you, Zsasz. He’s all bluster; he’ll come back with his tail between his legs. He’s a man of many vices and I imagine that gets expensive.”

Oswald chuckles as his eyes hold Freeze’s gaze; the frost man beams a lopsided grin his way. He looks over his shoulder back at Zsasz and purrs.

“I imagine both Harvey and Jim are licking each other’s wounds right about now. But I think they got the message. Don’t you? Since you made a monumental mess of things, I should make you go back and finish the job. Haul both Bullock and Gordon here. Slit Harvey’s throat in front of Jim. Then…”

Oswald turns back around and faces Zsasz, purring as an evil thought pops into his head.

“I would have you chop Jim into little bitty pieces, starting with toes… fingers. That nose… ears. Then his hands. Saw each extremity off… _slowly_. So he suffers oh so _exquisitely_. Have you spill his guts before he slips into sweet oblivion.”

Oswald smirks at Victor.

Victor offers no reply. He grits his teeth and keeps his face impassive as he imagines carrying out each of Penguin’s suggestions on _him_ —slicing and sawing away at Oswald… bit by bit… relishing the kingpin’s protracted screams as he bathes in his blood.

Zsasz can already feel and taste the warm spurt of arterial spray. He can smell the stink of Penguin’s bowels as he yanks them from his body… slick… _slippery…_ He imagines the scent of Penguin’s lavish fragrance overpowered by the stench of feces as he shits his ostentatious finery.

Freeze laughs and adds.

“Then we can scramble his bits up like a jigsaw puzzle and freeze him. Display him next to Nygma for all to see. Truly a wonderful macabre centerpiece. Zsasz, you can sign it like an artist with a painting.”

Oswald busts out laughing as he stands next to Freeze.

“You have true vision, Victor.”

Zsasz stands wordlessly and imagines melting off Freeze’s face with Pike’s flamethrower, watching the sneering asshole melt along with his oh so precious creations, rendering them into puddles that wash down into the sewers where they fucking belong.

Once Victor comes to his senses, he remains silent and waits for the next slight. The next insult. The next order. The next _whatever…_ Not even Penguin will keep him here forever. He’ll eventually send him off to the next thing because the pompous asshole is too good to get his hands dirty. He blinks, tilts his head and stares impassively back at Penguin.

Oswald beams up at Freeze as the tall man playfully bumps his shoulder to the small man. The kingpin turns and pouts at Zsasz.

“What’s wrong, Zsasz? I figured you would get a kick out of that. You used to love the macabre. I’ve personally witnessed your enthusiasm for such theatrics countless times over.”

Zsasz is done. He knows there’s no reply he can offer that will end the torment. He stands with his arms crossed, silently waiting for the men to finish as he pictures huge holes blown in the center of their faces.

Oswald huffs and waves his hand at Zsasz.

“Go get out of here. Find something to make yourself useful.”

Freeze snorts and adds.

“Don’t go getting overzealous again.”

Zsasz grits his teeth, spins on his heel and immediately strides out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!
> 
> Harvey is my spirit animal. Salty, pig-headed, sarcastic, loud mouthed, instigator, crass, crude and perverted. I can imagine a man like Harvey spurring on the rage of his opponent with some shit talking. Even if he is severely wounded. Last laugh, last word and make it count—his wheelhouse. I wanted Harvey to have a major win even if it doesn’t seem like it with the pounding he took. With this little display he knows he got into Victor’s head. Jim sees Zsasz for what he is, and dear dear pretty boy Gabrielle coming in to really rub it in that he and Jim are a thing and that Jim is protective of him.
> 
> Then for Victor to go back to the lounge and face off with Penguin and Freeze as they tag team reaming him a new asshole? Oh geez. And Oswald conjuring some really fucked up imagery for Zsasz about rendering Jim to shreds.... How is Oswald still alive??! Oh yeah, Freeze is a good guard dog.
> 
> What will Zsasz do now? Poor guy.
> 
> ~FC  
> 
> 
> ______
> 
> I’ve just gotta go on record as saying POOR F*CKING HARVEY!
> 
> Honestly though. Even I have to admit, it was pretty f*cking gratifying watching Bullock make Zsasz’s head his own personal playhouse. Victor done gone and lost his sh!t, y’all! DAMB! He can dish it to Harvey, but he sure can’t choke down what Harvey serves up, can he? And here I thought that scene with Harvey at Lem’s Deli in “The Problem With Harvey Bullock” was pretty bad-&ss! 
> 
> Victor may have broken the f*ck outta Harvey’s face, but Harvey mopped the floor with Victor! *chuckles and shakes head*
> 
> And then HIM! Excelsior 865! And THEN f*cking Penguin and Fries?! Talk about a sh!tty day at the office! 
> 
> }8> -o-
> 
>  
> 
> _(Don’t tell my Zsaszy, but Fries’ fantasy about his gallery of frozen people in various emotional states is pretty f*cking hysterical. *o crosses fingers in hopes that, one day, she’s one day half as funny as FC, even if it *is* at the expense of her precious, precious murder muffin, Victor.*)_


	10. Done Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The detective discovers a startling fact about Zsasz. Jim takes over as acting captain while Harvey is out for recovery. Lucius Fox approaches Gordon concerning his job as ME.

 —>j<—

Jim sits by Harvey’s bedside at the hospital. The man is thoroughly doped up having had medical procedures to realign his fingers with pins and screws. His nose had to be surgically realigned and the surrounding tissue tended to. He also had multiple fractures to his cheekbone and eye socket. Harvey will be on a breathing tube for awhile.

Jim only came away with deep internal bruising and his side muscles torn but mendable. He was also lucky that he didn’t have internal renal bleeding. Jim learned that Dion Jackson didn’t make it; he succumbed to his multiple gunshot wounds on the ride to the hospital. He doesn’t want to tell Harvey until he’s over the worse part of his wounds.

Jim hobbles in Harvey’s room assisted by Gabrielle.

“Do you need anything? Something to drink perhaps?”

Gabrielle caresses Jim’s face and plants a kiss on his lips.

“No, I’ll be a moment then we can leave.”

Gabrielle nods and leaves the room to give Jim privacy.

Jim approaches his friend, who is knocked out. He reaches out his hand and places it on Harvey’s. He’s been torturing himself all day. He wants to hate Victor. He wants to rush out and hunt him down. At least, that is what he’s trying to tell himself that he _should do_ : seek vengeance for Harvey. Yet, he finds himself apprehensive and second guessing himself.

_I know exactly what kind of murderous psychopath Zsasz is. I’m an idiot to make myself forget… to turn a blind eye. But how can I hate him for something he’s always been? On the different side of the same coin—how can I love him?_

_I fell in love with a man that I made up in my own head, who doesn’t exist. Maybe I always sort of hoped he would—stop. Like he hoped I would, when I told him what I had to do. Back in those woods._

Jim exhales a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry, Harv. I should have brought Oswald in after discovering he had Edward prisoner. I should…(stifles a sob)...”

_I already know what I want to do. I just refuse to acknowledge the road that I need to take to stop Pax Penguina and Oswald. I would love to send the heads of all the criminals who took out licenses straight to that little asshole. I caused this; I should end it._

His mind begins actively working on a plan. He snaps out of it and gazes down at his friend.

Jim takes in a ragged breath and squeezes Harvey’s hand tighter.

“I know all this is my fault. All of it. I… was _selfish._ I know I did it to keep _him._ I’m going to make this right somehow. I will. _I promise you!_ ”

Jim lets Harvey’s hand go and leaves the room.

 

____ 

At the Westchester:

Jim steps out of the shower to find Gabrielle waiting on the bed. He has a tray of food and water on the nightstand. He smiles and beckons Jim to his arms. The bruised and battered detective slowly crawls onto the bed and sits in between Gabrielle’s legs with his back against his chest.

Gabrielle softly strokes his shoulders and plants a kiss on his neck. Jim nestles back and turns his head, tucking his face into Gabrielle’s neck. He inhales a slow breath in; the pains are still prominent. He’s only been able to take short breaths which have been making him lightheaded all day.

Gabrielle strokes Jim’s head, his thoughts troubled since seeing that bald man again. He sighs and finally asks.

“Jim… who was that _man?_ ”

Jim’s eyes open and his body stiffens slightly. He doesn’t want to say much about Victor to Gabrielle.

“He works for a someone that’s really upset with me and Harvey.”

Gabrielle shakes his head and inhales a deep breath.

“Jim, what are you not telling me?”

Jim leans forward and turns his body the best he can. His sides complain and protest with the small move. Jim swallows, his throat thick and dry. 

“What do you mean?”

Gabrielle furrows his brow. He brings a thumb to his mouth and chews on a nail. He shakes his head and says.

“Volevo dirtelo ma ero spaventato.”

“Gabrielle, _tell me._ ”

Gabrielle hangs his head as he strokes Jim’s arm.

“I have seen that man before, when you and I first met. He forced himself into my hotel room. He only asked if I knew you but it was the way _he looked at me_ ; the way he walked around my room. How he spoke… I thought… he meant to _harm_ me. Jim, I lied and told him I didn’t know you. I was a coward.”

Jim brow furrows. He’s in complete shock over the revelation.

“Gabrielle…”

“Jim, who is he? _Tell me._ ”

Jim swallows; he can feel his heart sink. The very thought that he placed Gabrielle in danger makes him ill. His carelessness and selfishness really driving his deep-seeded guilt. Not only did he endanger innocent people because of his preoccupation with a killer, but he has now put Gabrielle in Victor’s crosshairs. He wants to throw up. He swallows the bile down and confesses.

“He’s my ex.”

“So, my suspicions are true.”

Jim shakes his head and asserts with a deep low voice.

“Gabrielle, I want you to leave town as soon as possible and go back home. You’re not safe here. I won’t take no for an answer. Start looking for flights. I will stay by your side till you’re on a plane. Call now.”

Gabrielle sadly nods.

“I wish you were coming with me, Jim.”

“I can’t go. I’m sorry.”

Jim caresses Gabrielle’s face and kisses his lips. The model smiles and strokes Jim’s face.

“Can I call you to check up on you? Maybe try to convince you to come to me? Leave this whole ugly city behind.”

Jim smiles; he leans in and kisses Gabrielle deeply. The model gently lays Jim back onto the bed. He tents himself over the detective, being careful of his fragile state.

“Is that a yes?”

Jim nods. He runs his fingertips all along Gabrielle’s bare chest and down to his abs. He looks up into his dark eyes as his hands glide down further. Jim lightly strokes him through his boxers as he smiles coyly at the man above him.

Gabrielle chuckles and licks at Jim’s lips. He caresses Jim’s face, his fingers stroking all along his jaw then stopping to hold onto his chin.

“I will miss you, my handsome detective.”

Gabrielle caresses one side of Jim’s face and holds his hand to his cheek. Jim turns, kisses his palm and smiles.

“You can always call me. I would love it if you did.”

Gabrielle nods; he leans in to kiss Jim once more before sitting up.

“I will see about flights leaving tonight.”

Jim sits up and embraces him before kissing his neck. He stands to get the tray of food on the nightstand. He’s surprised he had any appetite at all after the monumental _shit_ day. Jim’s body begins to ache. Thoughts about Victor and the events in motorpool have been looping in his mind the entire evening.

He felt horror watching Harvey get pummeled and beaten to a bloody pulp. The look on Victor’s face wasn’t an expression he’s accustomed to seeing on the killer, even before they became lovers. He has _never_ seen Zsasz look so angry, uncomposed, in a state of complete fury. Even when hunting, the assassin had his wits about him. _Not this day._ He was a man who reached his limits.

The way Victor stared Gabrielle down in the motorpool sent shivers through his spine. If Victor had his way, Jim is sure Gabrielle would suffer like no man has ever suffered by the assassin’s hands.

_I will feel better once Gabrielle is safe… far away... from here—from Victor._

Jim can feel his heart breaking for Gabrielle and for Harvey, but also for how Victor is disappearing from deep inside him. The man he loves is fading from him and he doesn’t know what to do. There were so many times he wanted to break down and call Victor—take it all back.

_I can’t. I allowed him to affect me. My judgement. My reason. How can I keep being who I am if he stands in my way? I’m weak for him. We can never be with each other._

Jim takes a resolute breath. He plans on moving back into his old apartment once Gabrielle is safe.

He’s been thinking on a course of action and he needs a place to store some items while he gathers information. Jim takes his tray of food to a small table by the balcony door in the bedroom. He stares at the lights of Gotham as he takes a bite of his steak.

He listens in on Gabrielle’s conversation with the airline ticket clerk.

“Yes, okay so the earliest is tomorrow afternoon? Yes… please. Place it on the card. Thank you. Okay.”

Gabrielle hangs up the hotel phone and smiles sadly at Jim.

“Tomorrow at four in the afternoon. So what are we to do till then?”

Jim smiles, looking the man up and down. He abandons his food and stands.

“Well, we can stay in this hotel room and have plenty of sex. Nothing too rough, of course.”

Gabrielle beams Jim a large smile and a beckons him over.

Jim makes his way to the gorgeous man sitting on the bed. Gabrielle’s in nothing but black silk boxers, fresh from the shower. His thick wavy brown hair, soft and natural. He likes Gabrielle the best when he doesn’t fix himself up or when he wakes in the morning with his wild bedhead. He prefers the natural and unkempt look. Jim stands before the seated Adonis and wraps his arms around his shoulders.

“You are very injured my handsome detective, perhaps nothing too strenuous. Lay down; let me take care of you.”

Jim crawls onto the bed and lays down on his back. He watches with fascination as Gabrielle crawls over him. He feels a gentle tug on his towel; the terry cloth slowly slips away. Jim feels a flush of heat throughout his body as soon as the cool air contacts his warm skin. Goosebumps prickle slowly up his arms and legs; he lets out a small breath.

Gabrielle leans in and softly presses his large warm lips to Jim’s. He exhales slowly from his mouth as he pulls away, his gaze looking deeply into baby blue eyes. He returns to eagerly press his mouth onto the parted lips waiting beneath him. His hands weave through Jim’s damp hair, deepening the kiss with his tongue.

Jim tenderly holds Gabrielle’s face in both of his hands as their tongues slowly dance with each other.

A memory of the first time he and Victor kissed manifests into his mind.

_He approached me with such slow calculated movements… as though he was a child about to close his hands around a firefly. His intensity seemed heighten after stalking me for a couple of days. We were so drawn to each other; I’ve never felt such a pull._

_The focus of his eyes, his smile broadening the closer he got to me. So close… almost there. Then that strong grip on my arm and the forceful yank towards him. The feel of his hard body as I fell into him. That hand… on me… grasping me over my pants. His mouth closing in… slowly… closer still. Those sweet lips… smashed to my own… I would die a thousand deaths for…_

_Oh, Victor..._

Jim exhales a shaky moan into Gabrielle’s mouth. He feels the model’s mouth travel to his neck and a hand softly stroke his hardening length. Jim shudders; with his eyes closed, he allows memories of Victor to prevail.

_The way he threw me against the wall of that abandoned garage. Hungry, impatient, and desperate to feel me. Clawing hands stripping me, ripping at my shirt and pants to feel my bare skin—my cock. The deep moans and groans he emitted when he finally got me in his hand. Stroking me… teasing me… tasting me._

_Oh, Victor…_

_His eyes smoldering… burning through me. I’m forever singed to the core. Those gorgeous dark eyes, so impossibly deep. I find myself completely mesmerized by their mystery. I could spend an eternity captured in those cimmerian pools._

Gabrielle starts stroking Jim faster, his grip tightening.

_Oh, Victor..._

_His dick so hard and hot in my hand as I worked him. How I savored having the infamous Victor Zsasz rendered weak and wanting. Our breaths echoing in that empty space. It was just us; nothing else existed beyond our burning bodies. The world could have burned all around us and we would have never given it notice._

_Oh, Victor..._

Gabrielle is slowly working his way down to Jim’s chest; he lets out a deep moan as Jim’s cock throbs nonstop in his stroking hand.

_His voice as he spoke to me on the phone so deep, sultry—urgent. Describing all the things he wanted to do to me, bound and at his will. He easily ensnared me, working me up with just his words and voice. So magnetic, so commanding… it felt like he was really there with me. Growling and hissing about all the ways he would make me his…_

_Oh, Victor…_

Gabrielle licks all the way down Jim’s abs and past his belly button. His hand firmly grasping the jolting cock. He gives Jim a long slow lick and inserts him all the way into his mouth.

Jim exhales from his opened mouth, deep rapid breaths.

_Oh, Victor…._

Gabrielle lavishes Jim with slow soft wet licks as he presses his length far into his throat. Jim softly bucks his hips as his bruised ribs complain but he doesn’t care.

_The first time he took me in his mouth. He swallowed me so far down… humming… sucking… licking. Holding my hips and ass tightly so I couldn’t escape his hungry mouth. Not that I wanted to. Mmmm… those thick sweet lips wrapped around me…_

_Oh, Victor..._

“Oh shit… yes… don’t stop. You feel so good.”

Jim feels his orgasm begin to crest.

Gabrielle releases him from his mouth as soon as Jim begins to blow, working him the rest of the way with his hand.

Jim whimpers when he senses the sudden loss of the silky heat and quickly replaced with a hand. His hips stutter as his muscles tense, he feels the hot thick flow of cum spray and sputter all over his abdomen. Gabrielle’s hand tenderly working him till he’s thoroughly milked.

“Fuck… oh god!”

There’s a hint of disappointment as Jim regains his composure. The blow job was merely satisfactory, much like any other blow job given to him by past lovers.

_Not like Victor… So thorough, enthusiastic, hungry—selfless lover._

Gabrielle smiles as he cleans Jim up with his towel. He purrs as he slides next to the breathless man. He cups Jim’s face, nuzzling his neck as he whispers.

“I hope this little bit makes up for the bad day you had. Are you hungry still? Want me to bring the food over? Let me take care of you just this once, my handsome detective.”

Jim strokes Gabrielle’s face as guilt permeates and festers deep inside him. Zsasz still has a tight hold on him despite all the ugliness and violence earlier today. He whispers back.

“Just lay here with me.”

_Victor…_

_____

 

A week later.

Since Harvey is still recovering, Jim has taken over acting captain duties. He spends his days doing what he can to take down criminals with licenses when he isn’t inundated with captain responsibilities. He still brings in and detains criminal license holders despite the huge and obvious threat that Oswald issued to Harvey a week ago.

After work, Jim checks on his friend to make sure Harvey has everything he needs. The captain is still in rough shape after his savage beat down, but he’s finally home and recovering. One of Harvey’s lady friends, Maria, comes over just about every night to cook for him and help around his apartment.

Today was an especially busy day. Jim and several cops were able to bring in another bank robbery attempt. Enforcement detail was there to keep watch, but they were neutralized and the robbers apprehended.

Jim walks by the cells as one of the enforcers growls at him. He recognizes the man from the assault on Oswald’s club back a couple of months ago. Slick blonde hair and a hawk-like nose; his crystal blue eyes are piercing into Jim.

“You better let us go, detective. Think Penguin is going to sit by and let you cause all this disruption?”

Jim halts.

“I don’t really care what Penguin allows. Might want to get comfortable; I plan on holding you and your cohorts all night.”

The man sucks his teeth and chuckles.

“Do you really want to do that? Our boss, Victor Zsasz, will personally come here and ensure we are let go, but not without _breaking more fingers… busting more noses._ ”

Jim eyes the man up and down and walks away. He heads to his desk and makes a mental note of how many large licensed crimes he and his small band of officers were able to take down. He is also making a note the hostility the other officers, who took the deal with Penguin, are harboring towards Jim and his crew.

A few of those officers approach his desk that very moment.

Jim stands and holds his ground with arms crossed and a stiff chin. They have contempt for the detective but have never dared approach Jim until now. The biggest of the bunch, Officer Tyler, is first to speak up.

“Detective Gordon, why don’t you just go ahead and let Penguin’s enforcers go?”

Then, a hothead (no one in the GCPD particularly cares for) snaps at him.

“We don’t want Victor Zsasz in here and you’re making things very difficult for everyone! So stop being an asshole and let them go!”

Jim smiles and then says through gritted teeth.

“You should be appalled with yourselves. You joined the GCPD to make a difference, to keep citizens safe and to make sure criminals are brought to justice! You are nothing more than lowlife thugs now!”

The large one speaks up again.

“Penguin pays more and let’s face it Gordon; the streets have been much safer than they ever were. Why mess up a good thing?”

Jim snarls.

“Because he allows murders now! You think that money is so great? Wait till it’s your wife, Tyler. Doesn't she run a store down the street? Or your son, Mike! I know he has a repair shop in central. Don’t think for one second everything can’t be taken from you if you keep enabling _sanctioned crime_ to continue.”

Officer Tyler speaks up again, his head hung and hands on his hips.

“Detective Gordon, what good does it do to keep fighting it? Either we all play ball or we all suffer. Set them free now; we don’t want Penguin coming down on all of us.”

The officers who aren’t in on the deal come and stand behind Jim. Officer Romero comes in and admonishes Tyler with some news.

“Tyler, I hope you know that just an hour ago licensed criminals held up that bodega that’s two stores down from Rachel’s store. They shot the owner as they left; he’s alive, thank god. We are supposed to be on the _same team!_ ”

Officer Tyler backs off as he reaches for his phone to call his wife. The others disperse slowly back to their desks.

Jim nods at his team but he knows the trepidation everyone feels over keeping the enforcers. With the current division in the GCPD and the brass in on the take... the precinct is ripe for anything walking through those doors.

Jim collects his coat and hat intending to leave for the night but he hears someone address him.

“Detective Gordon.”

Jim turns around to find Fox standing behind him with some papers. He has his coat on, and a small box of items in one arm. He is holding out the papers to Jim.

“Fox. What’s all this?”

“I’ve decided to take my leave of the GCPD. These are candidates for the new ME. Highly intelligent men and women in their respective fields.”

Jim’s face scrunches and his shoulders slump as he takes the list. He furrows his brow as he asks.

“Why are you leaving?”

Fox gives Jim an incredulous look.

“Why? Surely you must know why. I came here to GCPD to help. The environment and attitudes are different now. I know about the Pax Penguina and how entrenched the corruption is within these walls. Also, Bruce Wayne has asked me to come work for him. I’m needed elsewhere now.”

Jim nods but he’s still in shock. He hates to see Fox go, but he can’t exactly blame him.

“It was nice working with you. I hope to see you around. Good luck.”

Jim holds out his hand; Fox shakes it. He gives Jim a small grin and adds one more thing.

“Too bad Edward Nygma disappeared; he could really give Oswald a run for his money, more than enough to distract him from enforcing Pax Penguina at the very least. Goodbye, Detective Gordon.”

Jim watches as Fox makes his way out of the precinct. Jim had already thought about Nygma as a way to get leverage over Oswald. Jim knows busting into that club is virtually impossible without a lot of firepower. Even then, it would be extremely dangerous with Mr. Freeze and Firefly keeping that place well protected.

Jim wonders what exactly happened between Ed and Penguin. They seemed so close when Oswald became mayor. Then, out of the blue, it seemed they hated each other. Well, it seemed Edward hated Oswald more. Edward had Jervis in his clutches and was willing to hold the entire infected city hostage in trade for Oswald.

Jim gathers his stuff and heads back to his apartment. He has someone to meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad that my precious Jimbo’s having such a tough time right now, but my not-so-inner-Zsaszy’s gotta admit it’s pretty damb gratifying to know I give him better bjs than his pretty boy, Ricci! :D 
> 
> Oh wait. Someone please (using little words so I can understand) explain to me how it is that I’m *just now* finding out that I’m Jim’s “ex”? 
> 
> _(Ex-lover, Ex-guy I was fucking, Ex-guy I was seeing… my Ex-serial killer psycho stalker..~FC ;3)_
> 
> I didn’t know we were even a “thing”! 
> 
> _(Oh you didn’t know?! **You** insisted on us being a “thing” *Jim opens ‘Boxcutter’ fic and points to chapter where they finished giving each other hand jobs in garage* *Blinks at Zsasz*)_
> 
> ‘Cause Jim never told me! *insert confused Zsasz face* 
> 
> }8> -o-
> 
>  
> 
> ______
> 
>  
> 
> That unenthusiastic blowjob.... ugh! After having the best? Don’t even get me started on that =)
> 
> Jimbo has something brewing in that pretty head of his.
> 
> ~FC


	11. The Two Victors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim meets with an informant. He discovers more disturbing news about Victor Zsasz, as well as information pertinent to his plans. Oswald deals with his own issues back at the mansion concerning Victor Fries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __  
>  **Please read my endnote about the next chapter. ******  
> 

—>j<—

Back at his apartment, Jim stands in the shower as his thoughts linger on all the coming things he must do. Getting the locations of where the licenses are issued is half the work, the other half will be acquiring weapons.

_Then the fun part. I’ll get to go hunting. Collect each license I thwart and maybe mail them to Oswald. Once I do this, there’s no going back. I do this till I stop Pax for good._

Jim also thinks about the aftermath.

 _What will remain of me after I’ve gone lawless? What will I do?_ _I can’t go back to the GCPD. I will have to turn myself in; I’m a murderer._

Jim grimly nods and finishes with his shower.

Jim dresses up nicely before meeting up with his informant, Sean. He knows the boy has a crush on him and he wants to butter him up to get some information. The boy has a large list of rich clients and some are bound to be criminals, shady investors or bored men, the sort of men who would take a license out for whatever misdeeds they have a proclivity towards.

Jim rides his motorcycle out towards downtown. There’s always a crowd at the strip, a never-ending flood of people looking to forget their own lives for one night. Sean asked him to meet up at the strip club they were at the last time they were together— _The Prime Rib_.

As he pulls up he sees Sean standing outside. The boy is dressed like Oswald— _again_.

A couple of interested men are trying to buy Sean’s services, but the boy is brushing them off. Sean then turns and raises a finger as his head swivels back and forth. He looks to be giving them a piece of his mind.

 _The way he’s carrying himself really drives the whole Oswald shtick he has going on_.

Jim chuckles and shakes his head. He hollers at the perturbed young man.

“Sean! Over here!”

Sean’s face lights up; he hurries over. Jim eyes the beaming youth as he bounces over to him. The boy wraps his arms around Jim’s shoulders as he purrs.

“Jim! I’ve missed you!”

Jim wraps an arm around Sean’s waist as he pulls the boy closer to him. His bicep and forearm flex to firmly hold the lithe man, his fingers digging into the thick layers of finery as he clenches the fabrics into his fist. He growls as he eyes the boy up and down.

“Sean, why are you dressed like this again?”

The boy pouts but quickly grins as he shrugs.

“Well, you kissed me while I was dressed like this. Thought I would up my chances of that happening again tonight.”

The boy flutters his long black lashes at Jim as he pouts. Jim pulls the boy closer.

“Come here.”

Jim gives him a quick kiss on the lips; Sean purrs as he holds tighter. Jim pulls back and looks over the the busy bar then back at Sean. He nods over his shoulder for the boy to join him on his bike.

“Oh, yippie!”

Sean quickly joins Jim and holds on tight as they zip out of the parking lot and down the street. They end up at a small quiet bourbon and whiskey lounge somewhere downtown. Jim and Sean get a small booth in the back.

“Sean, I was wondering if you heard anything about Pax Penguina, either from clients or on the streets?”

The boy sips his Russian Mule and eyes Jim with a raised eyebrow. He sets his drink down and chuckles.

“Right down to business I see. You never change, Jim.”

Jim smiles and shakes his head.

“No, I guess not.”

Sean holds up a finger as he closes his eyes, long lashes dust rosy cheeks as he collects himself. His eyes pop open as a scowl deepens on his face, mimicking Oswald Cobblepot; he replies.

“Well, Detective Gordon, what exactly do you want to know about my little licensure program? I hardly see how _that_ is any of _your_ concern!”

Sean swivels his head and bats his eyelashes doing his best to keep a scowl on his face.

Jim shakes his head and laughs.

“Don’t ever do that again; I almost wanted to strangle you.”

Sean busts out laughing and clears his throat.

“It’s hard to sound like him; his voice is so much screechier than mine. I bet he’s a _hellcat_ in bed—a real _screamer_.”

Jim can feel his face flush with heat. His mind already imagining Oswald beneath him, clawing… panting… _screaming_.

Sean winks as he bites into a Maraschino cherry, he eyes drift to Jim’s mouth. The tip of his tongue coming out ever so slightly to give the sweet liquored cherry a long slow lick.

Jim watches on with rapt interest. The way the boy is dressed like _fucking_ Oswald and the over-the-top flirting, Jim’s already half stiff. His mouth opens slightly as he envisions his mouth on that same cherry.

Sean adds with a low sultry tone.

“What did you want to know, detective?”

Jim averts his eyes and takes a sip of his whiskey. He returns his mind to the business at hand.

“Where to actually get a license. It’s not at Oswald’s club and I doubt he would have random strangers over to his mansion to acquire them…”

Sean’s demeanor turns somber from his playful state.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I do know where they are issued out of. A john of mine was telling me that they now issue licenses for murder. He wanted to kill his wife but said he was too chicken to do it. I asked him where I needed to go because I need one for turning tricks. Can you believe it? I heard the licensing program is coming after us _working girls_.”

Sean watches as Jim’s mood quickly shifts. He leans both elbows on the table and slumps forward letting out a soft sigh.

“It’s getting out of hand, huh?”

Jim nods as he places both of his palms to his forehead.

“There’s a couple of locations. One by the docks in some old warehouse that was used for fish processing at one point and another somewhere by a bridge with a bunch of homeless bums. I think he said an old paper mill. The one at the docks is for large licenses while the other is for small time stuff. I confirmed this with another client… uh… say, Jim...”

Jim lowers his hands and eyes Sean expectantly. The boy shifts in his seat and sets his drink down. The young man stalls. Jim furrows his brow.

“What, Sean? What is it?”

The boy licks his lips and plays with the copper cup. He inhales a quick breath.

“There was a man at the Foxglove a while back. He said he knew you, hairless, tall, and white as a sheet—all in black.”

Jim face drops and a frown begins to form.

“What?”

Sean looks into Jim’s eyes and his mouth upturns into a crooked smile as he continues.

“I think this guy has a thing for you. He approached me and paid for me to reenact what you and I did. I told him all you and I did was kiss and talk. Well, we kissed and stuff. I thought we were about to do it, but he stopped himself and left. I’m pretty sure he works for Penguin. You might want to watch out for him, Jim. He gave me a weird vibe.”

Jim leans back in his seat and shakes his head.

_Oh god. What have I done? Victor…_

Jim leans forward and says with a low measured tone.

“Sean, if you ever see him again. I want you to run the other way. _Please_.”

Sean nods.

Jim grabs a napkin from under his drink and a pen from inside his jacket. He writes his number and hands it to Sean.

“Here. Call me if he approaches you again.”

Sean takes the napkin and folds it. He grins as he places it in an inside jacket pocket.

“My lucky night.”

He beams Jim a large smile then pouts.

“You have the information you want; are you going to leave me now?”

Jim chuckles and downs his drink. He shakes his head.

“I hadn’t planned on it. But I’m wasting your time; I don’t have a lot of cash on me.”

Sean leans forward and shrugs.

“I’m off the clock. Can we go for a ride on your motorcycle then? Let’s go cruise around!”

Jim nods and smiles. He finds himself appreciating Sean’s energy. The boy never seems to dwell on the negative aspects of his life long enough to let it affect him. He wishes he had that kind of resiliency. These days, he finds himself more sullen and broody as the days pass. His thoughts usually center on what he can do to stop Oswald, as well as nights spent thinking of Zsasz. His guilt, heartache and anger keep him for feeling anything else. Ever since Gabrielle left for home, Jim’s loneliness has worsened.

Jim stands up and waits for Sean to join him. The boy pops up out of his seat and wraps an arm around Jim’s waist, beaming him a large smile.

They ride around all of Gotham, Sean pointing to where he wants to go as Jim obliges the enthusiastic boy. After they stop for a quick bite to eat, they rest on a bench at Gotham Central Park. Sean is leaning against Jim as he enjoys an ice cream cone. The boy says dreamily.

“This was a fun night; let's make it better. Can we go back to your place?”

Jim chuckles and grabs Sean’s wrist to bring his ice cream to his mouth. Jim takes a swipe of the decadent triple Dutch chocolate scoops. He smacks his lips and lets out a small moan. He expression turns reflective for a moment. He shakes his head and says.

“Sean, I can’t. It’s not right. I have fun kissing you, but I still think of you as that eighteen-year-old boy that sat at the GCPD. I wouldn’t feel comfortable touching you that way.”

Sean beams Jim a large smile and kisses his cheek.

“You’re a good guy, Jim.”

Jim hears a kid laugh as his father catches a ball the boy is throwing into the air. The father returns the ball to the boy. The kid pounds it into his catcher’s mitt as he beams his father a large smile. Jim’s eyes follow the ball as the kid returns to tossing it in the air. He watches as they continue down the path out of the park. He feels a prick of recognition akin to déjà vu and he can’t tear his eyes away.

“ _Earth to Jim_ …”

Jim returns his attention to Sean and smiles.

“Yeah?”

Jim wraps an arm over Sean’s shoulder and brings the boy in closer. Sean shakes his head and peers up at him.

“I had asked if can we do this again sometime?”

Jim smiles warmly and nods.

“Only if you dress normal. Don’t get me wrong. You look great dressed like that, but I would like a break from Oswald Cobblepot.”

Sean scoffs and continues to eat his ice cream.

“Deal.”

 

______

 

Jim is at Harvey’s apartment after dropping Sean off at his place. Jim takes the elevator up and gets off on the third floor. Maria called him and asked if he could watch over Harvey while she tends to some family matters.

Jim opens the door and walks into Harvey’s kitchen.

“Harv! You awake?”

Jim sees a hand come up from the other side of the couch. Harvey’s muffled voice blurting out.

“Yeah.”

Jim walks into the living room and peers down at the reclining man. Harvey’s face is still very swollen and bruised, but it is worlds better than when he first got out of the hospital. The old man is in a white tee and shorts, engrossed in a game show on the television.

Jim sits at his feet on the other side of the couch. He has been meaning to talk to Harvey about Zsasz’s violent visit. Jim clears his throat and asks.

“Sleeping any better?”

Harvey tears his eyes from the television set and quips back.

“Whaddya think?”

Jim nods.

“Not at all I take it.”

“Yeah, it’s just hard to breathe lyin’ down. I have to sit up to get some shut eye.”

Jim turns to face the supine man on the couch. He reaches for the remote and switches the television off. Harvey throws his left hand up in exasperation.

“Hey com’on man! I was about to solve that puzzle!”

Jim gives Harvey a sour look and tosses the remote on a leather recliner.

“Harv, we should talk.”

Harvey throws his right arm over the back of the sofa and sits up. He groans and huffs once he is upright, bringing his right hand to lay on a pillow on his lap. He grumbles.

“Yeah, what ‘bout? What’s there to say?”

Jim takes in a breath.

“Why did Zsasz attack you?”

Harvey chuckles and shakes his head.

“He was there to break my fingers via Oswald’s request. Seems you pissed the small shitstain— _right off!_ So he sent _you know who_ to break my fingers if I didn’t put a stop to you.”

Jim clenches his jaw and shakes his head, his mood darkening.

“Harv, I know I’m causing trouble. I can’t stop being who I am. Not for you, not for Oswald and not for Vi…”

Jim stops himself from saying _his_ name. He leans forward, resting his arms on his thighs. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath.

Harvey studies Jim for a moment then gruffs.

“He really got under your skin, huh? Why, Jim? I don’t get it.”

Jim shrugs as he hangs his head.

“I know he’s psychotic and completely unhinged.”

Harvey scoffs; he then points to his face and his right hand.

“You think?!”

Jim glances over at Harvey. The old man shakes his head and confesses.

“I might have egged him on too. I was just angry for what he did to my hand… for Dion… for lettin’ things go to shit at the GCPD.”

Harvey scoffs then laughs.

“I said some really nasty things to him. So _worth_ the ass beatin’ just to see him lose his shit.”

Harvey chuckles and reclines back into the sofa. He quickly adds.

“You’re a _sore_ spot for him.”

Jim whips his head towards Harvey and frowns.

“Harv, what did you say to him about me?”

Harvey shrugs and states flatly.

“ _The god honest truth!_ That he isn’t good enough for you. Then I might have said somethin’ about matzah balls and… (shrugs) you movin’ on with another boyfriend.”

Jim stands and hisses.

“Why would you do that?! He would have killed you if I didn’t come through those doors! Harvey! You aren’t the only one that Victor wanted to do away with that day. I could see it in his eyes; he wanted to _kill_ Gabrielle. I had to make Gabe leave town!”

Jim mumbles as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Oh god… he must think I left him for _Gabrielle_.”

Harvey eyes Jim with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean… isn’t that _kinda_ what you did? Can’t say I blame you. Gabrielle had me second guessin’ my _heterosexual_ credentials. And what does it matter what _he_ thinks? You two are quits anyways. Right?”

Jim sighs and growls.

“The problem with _‘egging’_ Victor on is he has a team of men and women, and the capability to make someone disappear… _forever_. Fuck, Harv. I mean he could change his mind and still come after you.”

Harvey shrugs.

“I made my bed and if I must lie in it then— _so be it_.”

Harvey points his left index finger at Jim and states.

“I know it’s none of my business but at the same time… _yeah._..” He nods vigorously. “I happen to think _it is_. You and Victor— _shitty idea if there ever was one!_ Look, I’m a ‘ _ride or die’_ kinda friend; don’t get me wrong, but my patience only goes so far! If it makes me the bad guy for speakin’ my mind when someone I care ‘bout is _destroyin’_ themselves… for a _fuckin’_ lowlife!? Then I’ll gladly take that hit!”

Jim wants to lash out at Harvey but he knows the man has the right to feel how he does. He and Harvey had been extremely close before Victor walked into his life. Now that he stepped back from his torrid affair, he finally sees the full scope of the chaos left behind in its wake.

_I should just own it all. I can’t blame Victor for being who he’s always been. In my position, I should have been the bigger person to end it all. Before it began!_

Jim slumps back down on the couch and nods.

“No, you’re right. I should have never allowed it to happen.”

Harvey watches his friend closely; he can tell Jim is hurting really bad. He swallows when he remembers informing Oswald about their secret affair. He has an uneasy feeling that the small kingpin is going to end things and Zsasz is going to be the deliverer.

_It would be just like Oswald to use Zsasz to kill Jim. He would take sadistic pleasure in that._

Harvey sighs and scratches his head. He just wants his old friend back and it seems they might have a second chance.

 _“_ Hey, man. Let’s go to Bernardo’s. Come on. I’m well enough to shuffle my broke ass into some clothes and sit at a bar.”

Jim turns his head and peers over at his friend. He lets out a chuckle and nods.

“Sure. I’ll drive your car. I brought my motorcycle over.”

Harvey pouts.

“I was hoping to ride _bitch_.”

Jim shakes his head.

“Nah nah nah—you had your chance with me.”

 

—>  <—

 

That same night but earlier.

Oswald is calling it a night after dealing with the last details of The Iceberg Lounge. He walks into the kitchen to get a snack before retiring to his bedroom. Olga left a tray of petit fours she brought from one of Oswald’s favorite bakeries. He grabs a few onto a small plate along with an embroidered napkin. He makes his way out of the kitchen and past the wine cellar. He hears the door to Victor’s freezer open. Oswald glances over.

 

 

Victor is standing there in nothing but his linen pants— _s_ _hirtless_. Oswald swallows and does his best to not react to the man’s state of undress. He can feel those silvery orbs tracking him as he slowly walks past. He hears Victor let out a soft snicker and inhale a small breath.

“Hey.”

Oswald turns around as he curses in his head. He always has trouble keeping his eyes glued to Fries face when he traipses around half naked. Oswald hardens his face and bats his lashes at the smiling frost man.

“Yes, Victor? What do you want?”

Fries leans against the open door. Large plumes of cold air waft around him before swirling out and around Oswald. He smiles and points towards the plate Oswald is carrying.

“Can I have one?”

Oswald is taken aback by Victor’s bold request. It felt a little too intimate and familiar for his liking but as soon as he is about unleash a retort, his eyes sweep the half naked man. His snide remark catches in his throat and disappears. He shuffles uneasily on his feet and looks away. His face flushes hot from embarrassment; the onset of a blush settles on his cheeks. He’s sure Fries noticed the greedy assessment of his body. He chokes, saying nothing nor moving from his current position.

Freeze rubs a thumb over his chin as he tilts his head down. A large knowing smile creeps on his lips. He blinks a couple of times and raises a white eyebrow. He raises an arm over and behind his head as he leans his elbow on the doorway. His other hand grasps the waistband of his linen pants, right above his crotch, sliding it down ever so slightly. He crosses one leg over the other, locking at the ankles. He smirks and asks again.

“Can I?”

 

 

Oswald is sure his face is ten times the shade of red it was just a second ago. His lips part as he nods absently. He slowly approaches the doorway. His body shivering slightly from the cold, but mostly from his embarrassment at his lack of control. He holds up the plate, averting his gaze from Fries’s haunting eyes.

Fries plucks a small white cake, freezing it instantly with his fingers. He moans as he brings it to his lips.

Oswald glances up as soon as Fries lets loose a deep throaty sound of satisfaction. He watches as the small frozen cake slowly enters that perfect mouth, Fries slowly chewing as that masculine chin rises and falls and finally, the long draw of his adam’s apple as he swallows.

Freeze smiles and points towards the plate.

“Can I have another?”

Oswald’s heartbeat races; he starts to grow uncomfortable. He wants to run away. His body is trembling with the flush of blood throughout his extremities. He holds up the plate and retorts.

“Here; take the whole plate. I don’t want them anymore!”

Freeze grins and takes the plate. He quips as he grabs the door.

“Thanks!”

He promptly turns and pushes the door closed behind him.

The slamming of the freezer door causes Oswald to flinch, his shoulders rising to his ears as he teeters backwards. He takes a moment to catch his breath, his stomach cramping as his body still flushes with heat. He then realizes he has a small erection forming. He swallows and quickly turns around and heads upstairs to his room.

He rushes through the hallway and waves his guards out. He snarls.

“Stand guard below; I’m going to bed!”

He enters his bedroom and slams his door shut, his ire pricked with what transpired below. He hates feeling weak. He hates being out of control of his body. Freeze knows he has an effect over him and Oswald resents him for it, but he isn’t about to do away with the frozen scientist. He brings too much to the table that benefits his criminal empire.

Oswald makes his way to his minibar by his fireplace and pours himself a generous glass of Cabernet. He plops into his chair and props his feet up on his ottoman, his mind bringing up Fries’ well-sculpted body and perfectly symmetrical face.

_I can’t allow myself to get distracted with nonsense. What good has it ever brought me?_

As the night progresses, he manages to polish off two bottles of red wine and is currently working on vodka mixed with cranberry juice.

His inebriated mind preoccupies with memories of Edward. He misses his attentiveness and his reliability to get any job done. He misses the way Ed used to look at him before he ruined everything by killing _that woman_.

His mind also drifts to Freeze, a distant man, never one to make idle chatter. When they’re at the club or out handling competition, Fries never questions him. He only does as he’s told. But once they are at the mansion, the man acts differently, especially when they are alone. Oswald dares not guess his intentions or motives. Victor’s behavior has always been odd _—inconsistent_.

_Like tonight… what was that all about? He seemed to be playing with me. If he was really hungry, he would have put on that suit of his and helped himself to whatever was in the kitchen. It’s almost like he was waiting for me to pass so he could stand there and taunt me._

Oswald’s lips purse as he sips at his drink again. His mind drudges up a memory from a while back. Ivy’s duties are to follow Zsasz when he is on his own time. She followed the gunman to The Foxglove.

 _That sort of club that_ **_would_ ** _be up_ **_his_ ** _alley. A place where the depraved, the degenerate and the deviant fester in all their base urges._

He recalls the brief phone conversation with Ivy.

_“Yeah, what is it Ivy?”_

_“Victor is at The Foxglove with someone who looks exactly like you. It’s creepy and weird as hell.”_

Oswald remembers that bit of news caught him off guard. He choked on his glass of champagne _._

_“What? What do you mean?”_

_“Well, he’s at a booth and they both look really cozy. The man who looks like you had his hand on Victor, looked intimate. Can’t see anything now; the boy closed the curtains…_ ”

Oswald had pushed it all aside thinking that Ivy was mistaken. Zsasz never once expressed interest in him in all the time they’ve known each other.

_Not that I would allow him to touch me. Treacherous as he is, bedding the enemy, it’s ridiculous! Makes no sense! I bet he spilled secrets to Jim while their bodies were all entangled._

Oswald then remembers all the fun he and Zsasz had when Maroni was finally out of the picture. The way the assassin looked at him—begging to torture and kill those who would dare defy his right to rule the underworld. The lingering glances, the secretive smiles… no more.

Then there was Jim. On a couple of occasions, it seemed the detective wanted to eat Oswald alive. The way he seduced him in the stairwell in the club. The way he slithered and purred as he had him up against Nygma’s ice block.

_Everyone’s having a good time at my expense. Taunting me, leading me on… rejecting me._

Oswald throws his empty glass in the fireplace. His jealousy over Zsasz and Gordon’s coupling takes him by surprise. He doesn’t know who he’s more jealous over. He only knows he wants to destroy them. Render their relationship in ruins. Much like his failed love with Edward. He wants to watch as they tear each other apart.

Oswald peels himself off his chair and shuffles over to his minibar to mix himself another drink into a new glass.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm… *looks sheepishly from side to side* My Zsaszy is kinda creepy. :D
> 
> I just lurve that my fave work married couple, Gordlock, appears to be working it out and the way Bullock tells Jim what’s what with Zsasz and how he got to him, “so worth the ass beatin’ just to see him lose his shit”! 
> 
>  
> 
> **i cAn’T hElp tHaT i’M sTruNG oUt oVeR JIM GORDON! GAAHHH!!!!**
> 
>  
> 
> And that Victor Fries is a phuccin’ c0ck tease, y’all! DAMB! }8> -o-
> 
> __  
> **(I can’t wait to draw his sexy cock teasing ass ~FC)**  
>   
> 
>  
> 
> ______
> 
> I intentionally wrote the stuff with Jim finding out more and more about Victor to break this sort of illusion that surrounds Zsasz. Dude is charming, lovable and yeah people seem to forgive anything he does because of these traits. I guess I don’t necessarily feel this way about the character. Don’t get me wrong...I’m IN LOVE WITH VICTOR ZSASZ! To the eleventy millionth nth
> 
> But I like to get real too. Dude is disturbed... putting it lightly. Jim knows he’s a killer but he never thought about the scope of the man’s mental instability. With the information he is finding out, Jim now knows how obsessive and messed up Victor is over him. Also how much danger he is putting people around him in...
> 
>  
> 
> I also wanted to play a little on Oswald’s inexperience with flirtation, seduction and romantic motives. His drunken mental journey with the behaviors of the men in his life is a sort of set up for what is going to come. So with that being said....
> 
>  
> 
> **A warning**
> 
>  
> 
> The next chapter is going to be **difficult and graphic**
> 
> It touches on issues that are terrible—heinous even. The chapter will have tags and warnings, but I will go ahead and spill it here because, even though Jess and I hate spoilers, I think giving more heads up on the content is needed.
> 
> The next chapter is going to have non-con elements. Its gonna have everyone’s favorite character doing these non-con things to another beloved villain. If this is going to disturb you and you want to message us and ask just how graphic its going to be... please do. You can reach me as Filthycasualfanfic on Tumblr.
> 
> I find apologizing for art forms and subjects within its scope something I feel belittles creators and no, at no time do I think censorship is cool. Especially if the natural progression of the characters and subjects lean into uncomfortable topics.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> ~FC 
> 
> ______
> 
> Yeah. What FC said, y’all. You can also reach out to me on Tumblr (as owlettica). I’ll do my best to get back with you asap. My work schedule’s crazy these days and I’m traveling a bunch, but I give you my word I’ll do my best to get back with you as soon as possible. 
> 
> I couldn’t be more in agreement with FC regarding apology for and censorship of art. FC and I will take pains to ensure the tags reflect the content. I, for one, am a huge proponent of proper tagging and labeling because I want to be aware of what I consume be it news/media, art/film/fiction, even food (because I’m deathly allergic to a number of things. *pats her epi-pens*). But back to this fic:
> 
> FC’s right about my precious Zsaszy. I love his character and portray him the best I can. However, I seriously doubt, if I actually met a real-life Victor Zsasz, I’d be as enamored with him. Just sayin’. He is, after all, a homicidal maniac and sadist.
> 
> I also don’t offend easily, so I have a fairly high tolerance for unsavory stuff. I fully recognize, however, that others may not. If you have concerns about our next chapter, don’t hesitate to reach out. }8> -o-


	12. A Shadow, A Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drunken Oswald berates Zsasz about his job performance, eliciting a response he didn’t bargain for. Meanwhile, Jim and Harvey rekindle their friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **For those of you returning, please recall FC’s warning in the previous chapter's end notes. This chapter contains rape/non-con elements. Proceed with caution.**

—>z<—

Zsasz strides up to the mansion with a small case containing Penguin’s take of a recent jewel heist. The kingpin charged him with collecting the package and securing his favorite appraiser to look over the gems before their pickup. Victor mentally prepares himself for whatever fresh hell Penguin and Fries have in store for him.

Once inside, he casually addresses the men at the base of the stairs as he holds up the case.

“Penguin’s cut. Where’s he at?”

They glance upstairs.

“In his room for the night.”  
  
Zsasz curtly nods and makes quick work of the stairs. After scaling them, he’s surprised to _not_ see Freeze. He can’t recall the last time Penguin _hasn’t_ had him nearby. He’s not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Victor takes a deep breath and knocks.

“Boss.”

Oswald is so startled by the knock he loses grip of his glass. It falls to the floor, splashing his fresh drink all over the old and expensive rug. He curses under his breath and barks.

“Come in!”

Victor grits his teeth and opens the door. He’s never actually entered Penguin’s bedroom before, only passed by. Zsasz raises the small case.

“Your cut of that jewel heist. Where do you want it, Boss?”

Oswald glares at Zsasz and looks at the time on the grandfather clock by the door. He picks up the glass and throws it into the fire, shattering it with the other. He sneers as he turns to make another drink with the last glass in his minibar. He drunkenly rants.

“ _Wh.. where_ ? How about _when!?_ I wanted that...(hiccups)... hours ago, Victor! Why are you jussss _now_ bringing it to me?”

Victor presses his mouth together and blinks incredulously.

“I’da been here sooner but you said to take Mr. Siegel to and from the drop so he could appraise your cut.”

Oswald whips back around on the enforcer but staggers drunkenly just a bit. He shakes his head then barks as he sprays spittle everywhere.

“I don’t care how you do it (hiccups) as long as you deliver on time! You and your _incompetence_ are making me reach my wit’s end! P...p… put it on the mantle above the fireplace.”

Oswald turns back around to finish mixing his drink. All the hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end, his temper only growing worse with all the alcohol in his system. He side glances Victor with narrowed eyes.

Zsasz grits his teeth, walks to the mantle and sets down the case before turning to Penguin with his arms crossed.

“Anything else tonight, Chief?”

Oswald turns as he gulps down his drink. He slams the glass down on the minibar and crosses his arms. He sways just a bit as he lets loose all his frustrations on Zsasz.

“ _Oh—yes!_ Speaking of _your_ incompetence. If you _ever_ hesitate or se… se… second guess when to jump in when I’m being attacked— _I will have your_ head!” He hiccups. “ _How dare you_ allow _Jim_ to lay his hands on me! Thought I forgot that little incident?” Oswald staggers as he continues. “So what is it? Are you getting soft or just old? Can’t keep up with someone _older_ than you?”

Penguin’s jab at his competence stings, but not as much as the reminder of his failure to intervene with Jim. It was the first time Zsasz truly felt the repercussions of their relationship and realized just how much Jim had affected him. Before their entanglement, he would’ve been shielding Penguin with his Sig aimed at Jim’s head before he even made the stairs. Victor shrugs and tries to keep his voice breezy.

“I thought you had it under control.”

Oswald seethes as he continues.

“Well you were— _wrong!_ Whether or not I had it under control _you_ should have intervened—regardless! _Oh silly me—_ what am I talking about?! You couldn't best _Jim_ even if you _tried!_ ” He hiccups. “And I know you tried! How many times has he gotten the jump on you? Is it fear that makes you hesitate?!”

Victor’s face grows hotter with every mention of Jim’s name. He struggles to control his countenance, but Penguin’s last question strikes a nerve. His body recoils at the thought that _he,_ Victor Zsasz, could be actually be _afraid_. He takes a breath.

“A few times, Boss.”

Oswald ignores Victor’s reply and continues to rant.

“You were standing aside like a bu… bu… _buffoon!_ Twiddling your thumbs! If you can’t restrain Jim in a simple fight, then what good are you to stop him and those idiots at the GCPD from deterring my clients? I’ve lost large bank robberies, ar… ar (hiccups) artifacts from museums, weapons… Oh and I’ve also heard he’s jailed your enforcers. So far, what is it—oh yes, _four of my men_ jailed! Those cops aren’t anymore scared of you than Jim is!”

Oswald turns his back on the assassin and makes another drink, accidently spilling vodka everywhere as he sloppily mixes everything.

Victor grits his teeth. Penguin’s right. He _has_ been fucking up lately. Tasha even had to save his ass recently. He _has_ been distracted, endlessly torturing himself imagining Jim with Excelsior 865. He _still_ tortures himself with what he last asked of Jim: to go against his very nature and abandon his pursuit to stop Penguin.

_“I know what I’m doing is only making things difficult. The Pax Penguina is something I have to stop and I know Oswald will send you after me soon.”_

_“Don’t give him a reason to.”_

_“Goodbye, Victor.”_

Victor struggles to keep his face impassive, but the dawning realization stuns him:

 _I_ ** _am_** _afraid_. _I’m_ _afraid Penguin will make me put Jim down and I dunno if I can._

Oswald staggers in front of Zsasz as he drinks his glass, spilling a lot of it all over the carpet. He purrs as he bats his eyelashes.

“And where the _hell_ are you while Jim is out there waving his _big_ _detective_ _dick_ around? Probably out there being a de.. degenerate or something, ensconced in depravity, wrapped up in your deviant world.”

Oswald smirks as he turns around and heads to his leather sofa. He sets his drink on the coffee table and plops down on the couch. He reclines back and purrs.

“Speaking of deviant, Jim has made it known to me how much he would love to have his way with me. I should let him. Maybe I still will.” He hiccups. “I could have him wrapped around my little p… pinky so tightly.”

Oswald holds up one of his pinkies and wiggles it as he smirks at Zsasz.

 

 

Victor immediately recalls Jim’s little pro. He first found Jim’s thing for Penguin a little sexy, only to now find himself overwrought with jealousy. He bristles at the thought of Jim with Oswald and begins seething.

Oswald grins at the look on Victor’s face.

“Do you think Jim would look good at my feet with a leash around his neck?”

Victor’s only reply is the bruxing of his clenched teeth. His breathing accelerates.

Oswald gets off the sofa and staggers over to Zsasz, inches from his face.

“What is it Victor? Can’t bring yourself to comment on such things?”

Zsasz struggles to suppress his anger. His facial muscles retract and his jaw juts forward. He answers from one side of his mouth, his voice growing lower and eyes narrowing.

 

 

“Guess not.”

Oswald scoffs.

“You aren’t much for talking jusssst like the other Victor. But that’s where the s… s… similarities end between you both! He’s reliable. Hardworking. He gets stuff done.”

Victor’s building frustration only augments when Penguin compares him to Fries, who now stands where he once did.

Oswald looks Zsasz up and down.

“He never questions me and— _loyal to the end!_ A _virile_ and eff… effective enforcer. Effective fighter. Effective strategist. And you are nothing like him...”

_Your “effective strategist” does nothin’ but freeze shit and kiss your ass, givin’ all the orders and doin’ none of the grunt work ‘cause you gotta have him around all the time to eye hump._

Oswald turns to head to the bar as he growls over his shoulder at Zsasz.

“You’re a mess up! A shadow of your former self!”

Zsasz's outrage roils when he’s reminded of his professional setbacks and failure to continue being who he was _before_ Jim—who no longer wants him because he’d rather be with _Hot Italian Model_.

Oswald continues.

“You’re less than perfect. A huge disappointment! You’re ineffectual and….”

Zsasz’s chest begins heaving. He glares Penguin, who locks eyes with him as he deals the final blow.

“... _c_ _ompletely_ — _impotent!_ ”

Victor’s blind with rage. Before he realizes it, he’s on the other side of the room. Zsasz grabs Penguin’s arm and yanks the man around to face him. He clenches the kingpin’s neck with his other hand and stares him down. Oswald gapes up at him, wide-eyed in shock like a fish on a hook.

Oswald was feeling the rough seas of inebriation, but with the sudden grab and spin, the feeling intensifies. He is having a hard time steadying himself on his feet. That’s when he feels Victor’s hand clamp down around his neck. His hands shoot up to grab at the choking hand. He screeches.

“Guards!!”

Victor clamps down so hard he silences the cry in Penguin’s throat. Zsasz quickly releases the man’s arm and unsheathes his karambit, brandishing it at the kingpin’s face. He slowly eyes Oswald up and down, assessing the man’s hammering pulse and ragged breathing.

Oswald struggles to take in a full breath, especially with a sharp blade at his face. His terrified gaze locks onto Victor; the way the assassin is looking at him seems suggestive. He can feel a flush of heat throughout his body. He closes his eyes hoping Victor will just get his fill of scaring and let him go. The room begins spinning full tilt; Oswald lets out a whimper.

“V… Vi… Vic…”

Zsasz’s eyes narrow at Penguin, his face hard. Victor slowly tilts his head and leans into his ear, his lips grazing the shell of it as he hisses.

_“Yes, Boss?”_

Oswald gasps and tries to pry Victor’s grasp off his neck. Unsuccessful with pulling the iron grip off, his hands quickly shoot out to shove at the assassin. Oswald starts to thrash as he croaks out.

“Get your hands off of me!”

Zsasz maintains his unrelenting grip throughout Penguin’s pathetic struggle. He slowly pulls back and swivels his head. Victor places his karambit flat against Penguin’s face, placing its tip directly beneath his eye. His eyes follow the blade’s descent as he slowly drags it down Oswald’s face, chin and neck, then down his chest and beyond.

Victor finally stops _just_ below Penguin’s waist and returns his gaze. His eyes gleam with treachery and he stretches a menacing smile.

_Not so impotent now am I?_

Oswald halts from his thrashing when he feels the blade travel down his body. He trembles when the steel stops, unsure if Victor means to gut him. His eyes lock onto Victor’s ferocious gaze. He can feel the same heat from before, when he was below with Fries. It spreads throughout his body and, much to Oswald’s horror, he can feel the start of an erection. He closes his eyes as the spinning of the room becomes intolerable. He can feel himself sway on the verge of blacking out from the lack of full breaths and his overly drunken state.

Victor watches as a flush creeps on Penguin’s face and his lashes flutter with fear, confusion and curiously, _arousal_. Zsasz pointedly looks down at the man’s stirring erection. He taps the flat end of his blade against it, arches a brow and looks Oswald square in the eye—suggestively replying.

“ _Well now_ ….”

A sinister smirk tugs at the corner of Victor’s mouth.

“What do we have _here?_ ”

Oswald squeaks when Victor touches him below with the blade. His small body shakes like a leaf as his hands come up to pull his jacket tightly closed. He wails as best he can.

“Noooo… don’t _touch_ me!”

With lightning speed, Victor releases Penguin’s neck. He wrenches the man’s hands from his suit jacket, slices off his suit buttons and forcibly palms Penguin through his trousers.

Oswald inhales a large breath once the hand disappears. He feels himself about to tip over with how aggressively Victor rips his hands from his jacket. Next thing he knows, his jacket goes flying open as a forceful hand grabs at his cock. Oswald gasps and pushes as hard as he can against Victor’s chest. The solid man doesn’t move easily and Oswald loses his balance; he begins to fall over.

The instant Penguin loses his balance, Victor grabs him by the neck to right him again and sheathes his knife. Zsasz deftly unfastens, unzips and yanks open Penguin’s suit trousers before shoving his leathered hand into the man’s silk boxers. Victor grabs Penguin’s dick and aggressively jerks him off, his callous grip unforgiving.

_I’ll show you impotent._

Oswald cries out as he tries to pry Victor off of his cock, repulsed by his touch. Every nerve on his battered erection sparking with pain. He wheezes and chokes out screams of pain. He sobs as he begs.

“No no…. _Stop!_ Please! Don’t do this to me!”

Victor immediately stops, removes his hand from Penguin and glares back at him.

Oswald chin trembles as heavy tears begin to fall. He’s never been touched by anyone and the last thing he wanted was for it to be like this. He’s mortified. His sore and raw skin burns as his dick shrivels and aches in pain; he does his best to clutch his pants closed. He averts his gaze from Victor.

Zsasz grabs Penguin’s face and coerces the man to look up at him as he forcibly drags Oswald to the back of his leather couch. He quickly unfastens his belt and trousers.

Oswald stumbles and follows Zsasz’s direction. His mind wanting to slip into darkness while the room tilts violently in the background. His face feels hot with the rush of blood, his eyes unable to focus on the looming assassin. He feels his back hit something solid and he inhales a quick breath. His eyes close as he begins to fade.

Victor pulls himself from his trousers. He grabs the hems of Penguin’s shirt and waistcoat, shoving them upward. Zsasz tosses himself until he’s hard and shoves his cock beneath the kingpin’s finery—rutting against his alabastrine skin.

Oswald begins to fade and the room starts to narrow in his vision. With the final tilt of the room, he knows no more. His body slumps back against the couch.

Victor grinds against Oswald, but soon feels the man go limp. When he looks down and finds Penguin unresponsive, Zsasz backhands him.

Oswald startles out of his blackout, gasping and confused. His eyes begin to focus; he sees that Victor is still looming over him. He begins to sob. He tries to get away, but when he goes to move, he feels Victor’s cock on his stomach and abdomen. He wraps his arms around his own body and tries to recoil from the contact.

The kingpin’s sobbing finally brings Victor back to his senses. He blinks and shakes his head. When he peers down and is met with Oswald’s tear-streaked visage, Zsasz covers Penguin’s face with a hand.

Oswald grasps onto the hand over his face; at the same time, he cringes from the stiff hot flesh gliding against him. He lets out a squeal and tears Zsasz from his face, stumbling away. He falls over backwards onto the floor, straight on his ass. He shakes off the pain as his eyes look up in terror. He immediately tries to scoot away putting distance between him and Victor.

Zsasz peers down at Oswald, who looks back at him with horror. Victor immediately recalls finding himself in a similar position when he was a small boy in foster care: too small and weak to defend himself against someone bigger. _Stronger._ Victor’s face, once contorted with rage at Oswald, now twists with self-loathing.

Victor knits his brow and clenches his jaw before looking away and stuffing himself back into his trousers. He quickly exits the bedroom, ignoring the sounds of Penguin’s whimpering and pushing down his hellish childhood memories as far as he can.

—>j<—

Bernardo lets loose a thunderous laugh. Harvey beams a smug look as best he can through his swollen face.

“You see how he is?! Nothing short of a charmer even with that trainwreck of a face! Eh?!”

Harvey fans the coaster with a woman’s number at Bernardo.

“Women dig scars!”

Jim almost spits out his ale and laughs.

“Easy Harv, or you’re gonna have to beat them off with a bat!”

Harvey raises his beer and says.

“What a way to die.”

Bernardo busts out laughing as he turns to serve another customer.

Jim touches the tip of Harvey’s beer with his own and guzzles his down.

Harvey nods and says.

“So how bad do you think it’s gonna be when we return to work? I already expect the commissioner to threaten me with suspension. Hell, maybe even get roughed up by people at work too.”

Jim already has a plan formulated, but he can’t execute it if Oswald sends Zsasz to finish them off.

_I just need for us to lay low and play nice so we don’t draw suspicion. Make Oswald think we took the threat seriously and are backing off._

Jim shakes his head. He turns to Harvey on his right and leans in.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I hate to say this but, you’re right. We should just do as we are told. Play by Oswald’s rules.”

Harvey gives Jim an incredulous look.

“Wha…”

Jim wraps an arm around Harvey’s shoulder.

“It’s like you said; _we are outgunned and outnumbered_. Besides, you need to leave some women for the rest of us; can’t have you getting any more scars.”

Harvey shakes his head and chuckles.

“It’s not like _you’re_ lackin’ in options. So, you still with _everyone’s wet dream_ , Gabrielle?”

Jim shakes his head. He leans in taking the back of Harvey’s head and pressing his forehead to his friend’s.

“Harv…”

Jim presses his lips to Harvey’s forehead.

“I’m willing to give _you_ another shot…”

Harvey scoffs and laughs.

“You can’t handle this. I’m too much man for you.”

Harvey wraps his left arm around Jim and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

—>z<—

Victor blindly wanders darkened streets. He can still hear Penguin’s sobs and see him on the floor: exposed, disheveled, horrified. Had he not forgotten one of Don Falcone’s most valuable lessons, had he not let his emotions get the best of him, _none_ of it would have happened.

_Business is business. Never take things personally, young man._

Zsasz finds himself outside Lem’s Deli, the inside only visible from the streetlights overhead. He peers inside and looks to the counter. Victor recalls approaching Jim while he stood in line. It was the first time he felt _something_ between them… the first time Jim glanced at him… the first time Jim looked at his mouth… the first time Jim hesitated and lingered a little too long.

His eyes drift to the table where he sat with Bullock. The man not only _got_ to him, but got to him _good_.

 _“_ ** _You’re_ ** _not good enough for_ **_him_** _!”_

Before Bullock, Victor _never_ allowed anyone that far into his head. Before Jim, the man’s words would have fallen away and meant nothing. Instead, they infuriated him. Zsasz soon recalls the other taunt that spurred him to beat the codger bloody.

 _“You. Were._ **_Never_** _. Good. Enough. For. Jim! No wonder he found himself another boyfriend! I guess he got tired of matzah balls coz he’s always out gettin’ Italian. I can’t say I blame him. Look at—you! You’re a disgustin’ piece of shit—and Jim’s moved on!”_

Victor pictures Jim on the ground struggling to breathe after he kicked him—not even a _day_ after their last night together when Jim said _those_ words:

_“I’m yours..._

... _I love you, Victor_.”

_“I wish things were different but they’re not. Please... set me free.”_

He remembers standing after Harvey kicked him, only to see that fucking pretty boy’s face:

_The coward Jim chose over me._

Victor can’t stand there another moment. He strides off, only to find himself outside Bernardo’s. He idly glances inside the bar and stops dead in his tracks.

Inside, Jim sits with Harvey. They’re smiling and laughing with their arms around each other. For the first time in the longest, he realizes Jim looks _happy_. Jim’s doing _better_. Jim doesn’t have that pained look on his face anymore, the look he’s seen entirely too much of, the look he knows _he’s responsible for_.

Victor’s face contorts as he faces the ugly truth:

 _Bullock’s right. I’m_ **_not_ ** _good enough for Jim._

His body recoils at the thought and the pang in his gut.

He slightly startles when he suddenly realizes he can’t continue standing there because Jim might see him. He can’t bear the thought of Jim looking at him with the same pained look he had in the shower at his mom’s... at the precinct... when he said goodbye… when he said it was _over._

Victor knows he fucked up. He wants to apologize for all of it, but he’s supposed to let Jim go. He’s supposed to let go of the _only_ _thing_ , the _only_ _person_ that makes him feel _right_ anymore.

—

Victor drives to Jim’s abandoned apartment because he doesn’t know where else to go and it’s the closest he can get to Jim.

When he enters, he’s overwhelmed by the same feelings he had during his last visit. He looks to the sofa where he sat and cared for the detective. He turns to the recliner where Jim straddled and rode him. His eyes trail to the island where Jim looked up at him, all smiles and under the influence of his pain pills.

_“I’m not sure if you’re really here or not, but I’m enjoying the view.”_

_“You make me happy, Victor.”_

Victor grimaces and his chest becomes painfully tight.

_But I don’t make him happy._

_Not anymore._

Zsasz spies a bottle of Maker’s Mark and a tumbler. He strides to it and pours himself a tall one even though he _hates_ bourbon. He just wants his misery to stop or, at the very least, to lessen. He wants to feel _anything_ besides what he’s feeling right now: the pain and loss he hasn’t felt since he was kid. It’s excruciating, far worse and more difficult to endure than anything physical—the kind with which he is _intimately_ familiar.

Victor tosses back the amber liquid and scowls. Despite the odious taste, he promptly pours and tosses back a second. Zsasz cringes, grabs the bottle and heads for Jim’s bedroom, setting them on the nightstand. He removes his holster and places it atop the dresser, the same place he left it when he first slept with Jim. He tosses his gloves and jacket to the foot of the bed.

Victor turns and peers down at the pillows. He recalls his panic over his growing attachment to Jim that very first night. He was prepared to leave the sleeping man’s apartment and never look back, but he gave Jim his word he’d stay the night. Zsasz suddenly feels that fucking welling behind his eyes again, just like in the woods when Jim said it was over.

_“I’m yours..._

_...I love you, Victor.”_

_“Goodbye, Victor."_

He rubs down his face and crawls onto the bed, arranging his body the same way he did that first night. Victor recalls his lips in Jim’s high taper, conjuring his feel, his warmth and scent. The ache in his chest and the pooling in his eyes soon prove unbearable. He rubs down his face, immediately stands and begins pacing like a caged animal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been sexually assaulted and raped more than once (including in my childhood). I thought long and hard about including this subject matter when FC and I agreed this would be the natural progression of the story. I can assure you neither FC nor I are glorifying the subject matter or Zsasz’s behavior. 
> 
> As Deya and I developed "Safe Word", I approached Victor as more sociopath than psychopath (insofar as his attachment to/feelings for Jim and how he handles stress: he loses his sh!t, mentally checks out, lashes out, hurts others and/or himself). I don’t pretend to be an expert in anti-social behavior. If you are, feel free to weigh in.
> 
> The larger and more complex our fic became, the more I felt compelled to fill in gaps about our AU Victor’s personal history: his childhood psychological trauma (from being orphaned) and physical/emotional/sexual abuse in foster care. If FC hadn’t developed Falcone’s connection to Victor in his early childhood, I would’ve written him more in line with his comic origin story (if I’d even written a backstory).
> 
> Victor’s backstory isn’t intended to excuse or explain his sexual assault/rape of Penguin so much as it’s meant to provide him perspective on how harmful, loathsome and odious his actions were by remembering his own victimization. I also wanted him to have a sense of how far he’s drifted from Jim (whom I think he considers a “good guy” who’d be horrified to learn what he did to Oswald). 
> 
> When Deya and I first discussed this scene, I expected it to be even more sexually violent (due to my personal experience and the recent experience of someone who means the world to me. He was also raped).
> 
> FC and I discussed what would trigger (the) Victor (in this fic) into lashing out in such a way. I thought his numerous personal and professional setbacks would already be chipping away at him on top of Oswald’s constant criticism and condescension, in addition to Fries’ belittling. 
> 
> Victor is a cocky, arrogant, proud and virile man who is wholly unaccustomed to feelings of sexual/emotional attachment and failure. He’s great at what he does and commands respect. He fears nothing and will happily torture and/or kill anyone. During the course of this fic, however, all that is turned on his head. 
> 
> To top it all off, he loses Jim to Gabrielle who (in his mind) doesn’t even qualify as a “real” man. I thought all these things (combined with Penguin’s language that Zsasz construes as attacking his masculinity) would be just the push to make him completely lose his sh!t and attack him.
> 
> Okay. Enough of that. On a happier note:
> 
> I can’t tell you how glad that Jim and Harvey finally appear to have kissed and made up. It’s about damb time. Their spat was hurting my heart and honestly, I need something to smile about in this fic, ‘cause “Holy heavy angst, Batman!” 
> 
> }8> -o-
> 
> ______
> 
> Just to piggy back a little on Owl’s statement there. I believe the natural progression of Victor’s AU development would and could end up this way. When it was first discussed I had thought about making it a bit more graphic but tailored it down after Owl expressed her ideas about it. 
> 
> Everything that makes Zsasz a confident man was stripped of him by Jim, Oswald and even by his own hand. Perhaps you as the reader will disagree with this choice we as writers made— I can understand that. People like happy things... feels goods. We are all entitled to opinions.
> 
> I have never been raped but I have had a near experience. Had I not been quicker and more sober than my assailant, no telling what would have happened. Writers put a little of themselves into characters and I think Jess had the tougher job here. She and I often comment how sometimes we put a little too much of ourselves into Jim and Victor. So when we have to write something that is out of character for us as real people it can be VERY DIFFICULT to not get emotional..heated..perhaps even apprehensive. I wanted to make sure that Jess was comfortable writing that scene. 
> 
> The chapter after next (I believe) will show how Oswald deals with it, I think it plays a little more into my mentality when it comes to my personal experience. Though I have never been raped, I have been sexually molested from age 10-15. Lots of blame shifting going on. I will refrain from handing out anymore spoilers but I will go on record that the rest of the fic will not dive back into those elements.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> ~FC


	13. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim returns home from a night out with Harvey to find someone in his bedroom.

—>j<—

Jim exits the taxi. He’s pleasantly buzzed from a few beers, just the right amount to help him sleep soundly. He and Harvey shared the cab; he wanted to make sure his friend made it up to his apartment and that he had everything he needed before he left. Jim yawns as he opens his apartment door. He plans on sleeping in on his last day of sick leave. He reaches for the zipper to his jacket as he glances back at the island.

Jim stops in his tracks as his face scrunches in confusion. He is positive he left a bottle of Maker’s Mark and a tumbler there right before he went out to meet with Sean. He notices a few spots of liquid on the surface of the island.

_I haven't poured anything over that island…_

Jim looks around his apartment and notices that nothing else is out of place. He places his hand on his gun that he keeps in a discreet side holster. He feels the effects of the few beers he drank wearing off. He creeps down the hall and opens the door to the first spare bedroom.

Empty.

He takes a few soft steps and opens the door to his guest bathroom.

Empty as well.

Jim stands and listens. He hears the springs on his bed squeak and complain. Then the sound of glass on glass followed by a bottle setting down on a wood surface. Another sound of something slamming followed by more bed spring noises. Jim then hears the sounds of footsteps walking incessantly in his bedroom.

Jim frowns as he pulls out his Colt.

_What the hell?_

Jim reaches out with his left hand and slowly pushes the door open. He peeks through the crack and sees that it’s Zsasz. His heart begins to race; he takes a deep breath and lets out a soft sigh.

 

 

_Victor… I was sure he would stop once we had that talk. Is… is he drinking? This isn’t good..._

Jim opens the door all the way, his hand on his gun tightening in case Victor isn’t in a mood to be civil. His healing sides throb a couple of times, a reminder of the man’s violent nature.

“Victor, what are you doing here?”

Victor stops at the sound of Jim’s voice and slowly turns to face him, his answer disconcerted and slightly impaired.

 

 

“I uh… didn’t think you’d be here.”

Jim furrows his brow and takes a step closer. The grip on his gun not relenting.

“Okay… but why are you here? Are you _drunk?_ ”

Victor rubs his hand down his face and struggles to work out an answer, but the booze and his agitation make it impossible. He mutters quietly to himself, his thoughts muddled with inebriation.

_“He doesn’t want you here. He doesn’t want you anymore. You need to go...”_

Victor shakes his head in confusion, growing more flustered. He’s angry with himself for being a fuck-up, frustrated by the fact Jim doesn’t want anymore, despite how _desperately_ he still wants Jim. He runs his hand over the top of his head and stammers.

“Yeah. I’m a… little fucked up. I dunno… I just thought….”

Zsasz shakes his head, overwrought. In his despondency, he rapidly approaches and reaches for Jim.

Jim’s confusion with Zsasz’s behavior only grows with his rambling. Once the man starts coming at him, clearly upset and not himself, Jim takes half a step back. He begins to lift his gun, his heart racing. Jim shakes his head as he croaks out.

“ _Victor.._.”

Jim recalls the disturbing details of Zsasz’s past behavior. Stalking and menacing Gabrielle, approaching Sean to reenact what the two of them did, and attempting to tear Harvey to shreds in a fit of rage. Jim doesn’t know what to think of Victor’s disturbing obsession with him.  

Zsasz watches Jim raise his weapon, but he doesn’t give a shit anymore. He just wants the torment to end. He rushes Jim, grabs his forearm and aggressively places the Colt’s barrel to the center of his forehead.

“Go ahead, Jim.”

He looks Jim square in the eye and responds with resolute finality.

_“Do it.”_

Jim gapes at the broken man before him. His gun held firmly to Victor’s head, the sound of his voice and the look on his face too much for Jim to bear. He takes a shaky breath in.

_I had no idea he was hurting this badly._

Jim frowns as he reaches over with his other hand and takes the gun. He uncocks the hammer before he lets it fall to the ground. The riotous sound of the gun hitting the wood floor makes him flinch. He furrows his brow and holds his eyes steady on Victor. Jim shakes his head as he quickly comes in towards him. He wraps his arms around Victor, his hands clutching tightly to him. He breathes heavily into Victor’s neck and growls.

“I would _never_ … Why would you ask me to? _Why?_ ”

Victor briefly looks up and sucks in a shaky breath. He returns Jim’s gaze and reaches for the side of his face, his glistening eyes tracking back and forth. He’s desperate and drunk enough to no longer give a damn about his pride.

“Bullock’s right. I _am_ a disgusting piece of shit. I’m _not_ good enough for you.”

Jim’s face hardens and he shakes his head. He gazes into those large dark pools that seem to have lost something. Victor’s light… his intensity. Something in him— _broken_. He quakes, knowing it was _all his_ doing. He holds Victor tighter, hanging his head in contrition.

Jim’s separation from Zsasz pains him badly but knowing that Victor is hurting— _is breaking him_. He is second guessing his resolution to cut Victor from his life. Jim’s mental state hasn’t been the best since that night in the woods.

All the nightmares, the moments of rage he finds harder and harder to control—the need for blood. He plans to cross the line from a justice-seeking enforcer to a man on a personal vendetta against Penguin. He doesn’t plan to stop until he’s dead or Penguin is stripped of his empire.

 _Deep down I know I’m hoping that when I stop Penguin that maybe… Victor and I… that we can be together. So_ **_why the hell_ ** _am I_ **_fighting_ ** _so hard? Aren’t I already changed?_

Jim shakes his head and takes a deep breath. He quickly leans in and captures Victor’s lips with his own as he tenderly kisses him.

Victor’s breath hitches with Jim’s lips. He slowly embraces the man and finds himself settling… melting. All the shit and the hell begin fading because it’s just the two of them again. _Nobody_ else. _Nothing_ else. He tilts his head and nudges Jim’s lips apart, whimpering as he slips his tongue inside his mouth.

Jim lets out a soft moan and clutches the back of Victor’s head with his right hand. He holds his other hand onto the side of his face as his body presses into Zsasz. He pulls away long enough to urgently declare.

“I…

Jim kisses him again then pulls his lips away.

“...love you!”

Jim smashes his lips to Victor and huskily moans into his mouth.

“Fuck it all…

He kisses him again and stops to say.

“... _all I want is you_.”

Jim smashes his mouth to Victor and resumes their deep kiss.

Victor’s body gives way. The alcohol in his system stretches the warmth of Jim’s body, his mouth, his scent. He grabs the back of Jim’s neck, draws him closer and probes deeply into his mouth. He moans and tightly clutches Jim, his heart racing and body aching. His hand quickly traverses Jim’s leathered back, soon clawing at his ass to draw his hips fast and feel him flush against him.

Jim brings his hands to Victor’s vest and shirt buttons as he continues to kiss him. He quickly starts unbuttoning the layers between him and Victor’s warm skin. He pulls away from the kiss to focus on getting his lover undressed. He quips with amusement.

“You’re going to have to wear something simple _next_ time we fuck.”

Victor stretches his first genuine smile since returning to Gotham. His cheeky response comes slowly, stammering from the booze.

“If I uh...  didn’t have to work for a living, I _would_. If it were up to me… I wouldn’t wear _any_ clothes.”

Jim shakes his head and chuckles at Victor’s drunken statement. He rips off the vest and works on Victor’s shirt. He grabs a wrist and undoes the cuff, the same with the other. He reaches up and pushes the shirt from Victor’s shoulders as he comes in for another urgent kiss.

Victor watches on as Jim makes quick work of his clothes. He removes jacket with little effort, but struggles miserably to unbutton Jim with his compromised motor skills. In his frustration and desperation to feel Jim’s body, he grabs either side of his shirt and rips most of it open. He tries pulling the shirt over Jim’s head, but soon realizes he can’t because of the buttoned cuffs.

Jim chuckles at Victor’s attempt to remove his shirt. He pulls away and eyes Victor up and down. He unbuttons his cuffs and lets the shirt fall off. Jim quickly unfastens his own belt and pants. He slithers up to Victor and grabs his belt as he presses his naked chest to him. He moans as the warmth contacts his skin; he desperately missed the feel of his body against his own. He kisses Victor’s neck and swirls his tongue all along his salty skin. He moans at the taste as the coppery essence settles on his palette. He opens his mouth wide and sinks his teeth in.

Jim’s bare chest pressed against him sets Zsasz’s body alight. Heady from the booze and Jim’s mouth, Victor wraps himself around the smaller man, yearning for more of his body. He loses himself in Jim’s scent and his warmth, shuddering in response to his teeth and flicking tongue. Victor’s nipples harden and his skin erupts in gooseflesh. He grinds his swollen cock against Jim.

Jim unbuckles Victor’s belt and pants. He allows himself to get caught up in Victor’s rutting for a bit before pulling away. He smiles at Victor as he toes out of his own shoes and yanks his pants and boxers off in one swipe. He walks out of his clothes and reaches for Victor. He wraps his arms around his shoulders, smashing his mouth to his. He invades Victor’s mouth with his tongue as he wraps one leg around Victor’s hip, pressing his body roughly to his.

_I forever want him between my legs. Fuck… he’s so hard and big. Delicious._

Victor watches transfixed as Jim quickly undresses and moans at the glorious sight of him naked, bathed in moonlight again. He groans when Jim wraps himself around his body. Zsasz is soon helpless against the encroaching tongue that renders him weak... wanting… desperate… _hungry_. He prods himself against Jim to meet his hardened cock.

Zsasz reaches beneath Jim’s ass. He quickly hoists him up, dying to lose himself inside Jim’s arms and legs. Victor concentrates hard to walk them to Jim’s bed. Once flush against it, he lowers himself onto it as Jim straddles him, first sitting, then quickly leaning back and impatiently reaching for his waistbands.

Jim lets out a moan of excitement when Victor lifts him. He obliges by wrapping his other leg around him. He clutches at his shoulders as his kiss deepens. He feels the both of them lower to the bed, his knees settle onto the mattress. Jim watches with rapt amusement as Victor fumbles with his belt and pants.

Jim crawls off of Victor and descends to his knees on the floor. He smacks Victor’s clumsy hands away and whips off the belt buckle and unfastens his pants. Jim then shakes his head and looks up to smirk at Victor. He reaches for his boot laces as he teases.

“You always do this…”

Jim peers up at him before returning his focus to the man’s boots.

Victor lifts his head to peer down at Jim, framed by his knees. He blinks in confusion.

“Do _what?_ ”

Jim chuckles.

_He got drunk off of one beer at my mother’s home. Here he is drinking bourbon; surprised he hasn't passed out._

“You taking your pants off before your boots.”

Victor chuckles and shakes his head, biting his lower lip.

“You make it hard to concentrate.”

Jim laughs as he pulls off both of Victor’s boots and yanks off his socks. He then stands and pulls Victor up by his wrists.

Victor leans down and nudges Jim’s neck, capturing it in his mouth. Zsasz rakes his teeth and flicks his tongue down it. He also licks the hollows of Jim’s collarbone as he impatiently yanks down his waistbands, attempting to free himself.

He clumsily steps out of his pants and draws Jim closer, groaning and shuddering. Victor removes his mouth from Jim’s neck and pulls him in for a bruising kiss. He tightly envelops Jim and immediately grinds against him, shuddering and moaning as their hot, hardened cocks meet.

Jim moans and meets the thrusts with his own. He wraps his leg around his hip again and pulls away from the kiss to purr.

“Now… where were we?”

Victor gazes down dreamily and hoists Jim up a second time. He smiles, remembering the first time Jim gruffed those exact words to him at Lem’s.

_“Where were we? Nowhere.”_

Victor’s brow softens.

“Right here.”

Victor slowly presses his mouth to Jim’s, slipping his tongue inside and reveling in it. _So warm… wet… impatient._ He draws Jim closer and tries to merge with him… to lose himself between the man’s legs and against his prodding length. Victor soon feels that warmth spreading in his hips and up into his chest again.

Jim pulls from the kiss to lean back as his hands grasp tightly onto Victor’s shoulders. He grinds his hips into him, enjoying the feel of his large length between his legs. He can feel his body explode with heat. His skin prickles with goose bumps. He shudders; his pleasure mounting with the thrilling position. Him wrapped around Victor, the only sensation against his body. No clothes… no floor… only Victor. His heat… his skin… his breaths as they softly hit his face. The urgent ruts between his legs, undulating and grinding against his hips. He moans loudly; he pulls himself back to Victor’s mouth.

Zsasz groans and probes his tongue further, forfeit in Jim’s mouth and body… decadent… _exquisite._ He claws desperately at the man’s ass and scoots towards the bed again, lowering himself so that he’s beneath Jim again… the way he was before… in the woods… when it was just the two of them… no one else… nothing else.

Jim smiles when they return to the bed. He grinds his hips onto Victor as he peers into his eyes. He bites his lower lip when he sees that familiar clouding of his eyes, when Victor’s lost in his desire… need… lust. Jim reaches out a hand and caresses his face. He leans in for a soft kiss.

Victor places his hand over Jim’s, surrendering to his mouth. He reaches for the man’s shoulder and slowly glides down his back. He sweeps his fingertips along the small of it and traces where he tallied Jim, before trailing downward and firmly grasping his haunches. Zsasz fingers the tallies he left below Jim’s glutes and takes as much of that perfect ass as he can into his hand. He draws Jim close and begins grinding into him.

Zsasz slowly takes his other hand behind Jim’s neck to kiss him more deeply, inhaling as much of Jim’s scent as he can.

Jim pulls back from the kiss and the grip on his neck.

“Hold that thought, baby.”

He quickly retreats from the top of Victor. He smiles as he slithers off the bed and turns to get into his nightstand. He throws the lube on the bed and returns to loom over his pale lover. Jim moans as he eyes Victor.

Victor smiles as he takes Jim’s forearm to draw him close, rolling the man onto his back, closer to the head of the bed and straddles him. He bites and sucks Jim’s neck while his hand traverses Jim’s neck and his chest.

Zsasz circles and teases a nipple before gliding down and mapping those taut, quivering abdominals. He moans when Jim’s pubic hair tickles his fingertips. Victor takes his hardened length into his hand, groaning into Jim’s neck with the first long, delicious pull.

Jim wraps his arms tightly around Victor’s shoulders as he shudders with delight at his travelling fingertips. He feels his erection throb as soon as Victor’s hand firmly wraps around it. Jim lets out a gasp as his body jerks. He slowly thrusts into Victor’s grip. He whispers.

“I’ve missed your touch…”

Jim runs one hand down Victor’s back and claws his fingers deep into his flesh. His other hand caresses Victor’s head, his ruts becoming more frantic. His need burning beyond control.

Zsasz’s body aches with fever. He synchronizes his hand with Jim’s hips and gazes up at his softened face and slackened jaw. Victor briefly presses his mouth against Jim’s. He laps at his lips and captures that perfect chin between his teeth before descending, dying to take Jim’s delicious girth into his mouth.

Jim moans when he feels Victor make his way downward. He softly pushes him along as his body starts thrusting harder with expectation. He peers down and groans. His cock jolting… throbbing… waiting. It aches to feel those sweet lips wrapped around him. Jim hisses softly.

“Yesssss.”

Victor groans when he finally arrives at Jim’s cock, the tip glistening and begging to be sucked. Zsasz slowly drags his tongue across it, flicking at it and moaning at Jim’s salt. He slowly envelops the man’s tip with his mouth, moaning as he sucks.

His own cock twitches and jerks with excitement as he slowly takes the man as far as he can down his throat, nudging his nose against him and deeply inhaling Jim’s heady scent. In little time, he’s wantonly bobbing, moaning and sucking with licentiousness.

Jim exhales a loud breath and exclaims.

“Fuck! Shit! Oh… god… you and that fucking mouth of yours!”

Jim brings his hands down to caress Victor’s smooth head as he bobs and sucks. His hips begin to stutter; he feels his orgasm not far. He thrusts frantically as his muscles begin to twitch. His breathing labored and heavy as he moans.

“Oh, Victor!”

Victor hums and hungrily bobs. He slowly drags his palm up the inside of Jim’s leg until he arrives at his hip. He locks the heel of his hand into its hollow so he can latch onto Jim’s hip. Zsasz sucks harder. His hips thrust with excitement at the promise of Jim’s impending burst.

Jim presses his body down hard into the bed. His legs splayed as he thrusts long and deep into Victor’s mouth. He loses himself to the exquisite feel… the silky heat… the wiggling tongue… the wet… the sucking… Victor not relenting. Jim feels the pressure in his balls and at the base of his cock bloom outwards. Jim throws his head back as he explodes copiously down Victor’s throat. A loud throaty wail emits from back of his throat.

“VVIIICCCTORRRR!!!! FUUUUUUCK!!”

Victor groans with satisfaction as the man gushes. He latches onto both hips as Jim pushes himself further inside his mouth, thrusting and wailing until his movements finally ebb.

Once Jim settles, Victor slowly pulls off, taking time to painstakingly drag his lips over the head of his dick. He teases Jim’s frenulum with the soft underside of his tongue before releasing him. He rests his head between Jim’s legs, as he lazily runs a palm up his thigh. Victor kisses it, looks up and tenderly gazes back at Jim.

Jim smiles dreamily at Victor. His body throbbing and panting as he comes down his orgasmic high. He props himself on his elbows and runs his right foot up and down Victor’s side as he leans over to grab the bottle of lube.

“I can’t wait to feel you deep inside of me…”

Victor moans and jerks at the throaty utterance. After lubing his fingers, he nuzzles his face between Jim’s legs and nudges them further apart with his mouth. Victor licks between them and around Jim’s balls, briefly mouthing them. He reaches up, moaning as he slowly slips and curls his finger inside.

Jim falls back onto the bed and arches his back lost in the silky presence of his tongue between his legs and around his nutsack. The feel of Victor’s finger breaching him sends a jolt through his body. He begins rolling his hips to feel him deeper inside. He smiles down at the distracted man and lays one leg over his shoulder. He inhales a quick breath when he feels the exploring finger find its mark.

“There! Right _there._ ”

Victor diligently rubs Jim’s sweet spot as his tongue mimics the movement of his finger. He synchronizes the two and eventually slips in a second digit. Zsasz groans at Jim’s clenching muscles and gazes up at Jim from between his legs.

Jim lazily brings his right hand to his mouth as he places his index finger to his parted lips. He softly licks his finger. With the introduction of a second finger he quickly brings the palm of his right hand to his forehead and grabs at his hair. He breathlessly utters.

“Now… I need you now.”

Victor groans and shudders as he slips out of Jim and slots himself between his legs, drawing his hips fast. Zsasz moans as he takes himself in his hand to lube. He lines himself up, groaning with the sublime entry. His hips immediately begin stuttering from the transcendent drag as he sinks inside Jim’s decadent swelter.

“Vi—ctor! Oh god! Yes!”

Jim grasps at Victor’s shoulders and meets his thrusting hips with his own, sinking him all the way in. He grasps onto his lover drawing him to his lips, pushing his tongue into Victor’s parted mouth. His legs wrapping tightly around him as he begins grinding into him. He pulls down harder onto Victor, wanting to be crushed by his body, craving the feel of his large solid frame smothering him. _Rutting_ … _smashing_ … _fucking_ him senseless.

Victor’s thoroughly debauched in Jim’s tight heat, his greedy hands and urgent moans… those grinding hips and that forceful mouth. Zsasz’s hips soon pump on their own volition—impatient, desperate, _wild_. He rigorously forces his mouth against Jim’s and ardently thrusts into him, pounding faster… _harder._ He’s forfeit in the sounds of his hips slamming against Jim’s ass, his grunts melding with Jim’s moans and heavy breaths. Zsasz hammers forward, but eventually finds himself slipping…

“J-Jim….”

Jim can feel his breaths and panting altered by how hard Victor is pounding into him. They hitch and spike with each thrust. That familiar hardness deep inside, prodding, ramming, throbbing, makes him quake and moan. Jim groans out.

“Yes… uh… harder… deeper… I want to feel you cum _deep inside me!_ ”

Jim returns his mouth to Victor’s parted lips, teeth meeting his lover’s mouth as he holds onto Victor’s shoulders for dear life.

Zsasz pounds into Jim, adrift in his taut warmth. Nothing exists beyond the two of them. He forges forward, his tempo growing frantic, _urgent_. Victor’s soon overcome by that familiar warmth and exquisite pressure deep in his balls… behind his cock. His hips begin stuttering… teetering… and then sweet oblivion as he bursts.

_“OH FUUCK MEEEEE!!! JIMMMMMM!!!!”_

 

__

 

 

Victor plows into Jim until his body eventually calms. When he finally comes back to himself, he gazes deeply into _those_ eyes. He feels his face contort, no longer giving a shit if Jim sees. He presses his eyes and mouth shut and takes a deep breath. He caresses the man’s face and leans down to kiss him.

Jim holds onto the hand on his face. His heart pounding, he’s never seen Victor look this way… _over anything_. Jim kisses him softly as he takes Victor’s chin in his hand. He pulls away and looks up into his eyes.

“I love you.”

Victor blinks away the stinging in his eyes, his mouth dry. He thickly swallows and averts his gaze before looking back at Jim, pressing his lips together and nodding once.

“I, uh...”

Zsasz looks away when his face contorts more, recalling when Jim asked if he considered him just an amusement.

“ _No Jim, you’re **more** than that.” _  

He feels the same ache in his chest when he unexpectedly saw Jim in the bullpen through the blinds in Bullock’s office… when he thought it was over at Jim’s mom’s… when he saw Jim with Ricci… when Jim never came out of the elevator… when Jim left him in the woods… when he saw Jim on the ground in the GCPD motorpool…

Victor’s teeth clench when he suddenly recalls what Mrs. Gordon said about Jim when they made breakfast together.

_“I suspected he was in love. I can see it, the way he looks at you.”_

_Is_ **_that_ ** _what I am?_

Victor forces himself to return Jim’s gaze, despite the welling in his eyes and inability to school his face.

“I… really _want_ _you_ , Jim…”

He clenches his teeth and swallows.

“... _only_ _you_.”  
  
Zsasz blinks and looks away.

Jim places both hands on the sides of Victor’s face to bring his gaze back to his own. His breaths growing heavy, the ache in his heart slowly dissipating… his unexpected words… the unexpected emotions behind them… take him by surprise. He’s shocked.

Jim suddenly feels shame for putting Victor through so much hell and for turning him away. He selfishly only cared about himself and not once thought about how it was affecting Victor. He never thought about what _he was_ going through. Jim croaks out.

“I’m sorry for pushing you away. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Victor’s brow knits when Jim takes his face. His eyes nervously dart around because he has no idea how to respond and feels ridiculously out of his depth. Mercifully, the booze helps.                                                                                                     

“I uh… don’t think I made it easy. I…” He takes a deep breath. “...shoulda moved on already, but…”

Victor nervously looks down and licks his lips.

_“I can’t.”_

Jim rolls Victor off of him and to the side. He props his head up with a palm and strokes Victor’s face with his other hand.

“You are _all_ I want and it’s changing me; _that’s why I left_. Harvey told me what he said to you… that day… It’s not true. I never left you to be with someone else. I thought I could move on, but I was wrong. The more I was with Gabrielle, the more I wanted _only you!_ ”

Victor’s shoulders slump in relief to discover he didn’t lose Jim to Ricci. Jim’s confession encourages him to confess himself. He briefly looks down before puffing out a mirthless chuckle.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think I’m… kinda _fucked up_ over you. I… even overheard The Girls talk about it. Thing is, Jim...”  
  
Zsasz rubs down his face and shakes his head.

“I don’t feel... _right_ without you.”

Jim leans in and kisses Victor’s forehead. He presses his head to Victor’s as he hardens his face. The tone of his voice growing stern as he says.

“Victor, I can get over you hurting me when it’s business. _But not Harvey, not ever_. I don’t think I can forgive you if you ever hurt him again. Please, understand this.”

Victor grimly looks down. Despite how much he hates Bullock, he apparently means a lot to Jim. He puffs out a huge breath and soberly nods.

“Understood.”

Jim smiles sadly and adds.

“If Oswald sends you after Harvey, come after me instead. I’m sure Oswald won’t mind as long as he knows I’m the one getting hurt. But, I want you to know, and relay this to your boss— _I’m backing off_. I won’t oppose him anymore. The Pax Penguina is free to run smoothly.”

Jim inhales a shaky breath and closes his eyes tightly. After a moment, he reopens his eyes as he lowers his head onto his folded arm. He brings his other hand to softly stroke Victor’s chin. His brow furrows as he settles into deep thought over everything he is going to do. He peers into Victor’s eyes, the same sad smile still on his lips.

Victor listens incredulously at Jim’s request to go after _him_ and _not_ Harvey: his worst nightmare. Before Jim, he’d happily injure, torture or kill _anyone_ without hesitation or prompting, but Jim? He can hear Penguin’s earlier taunt.

_“Is it fear that makes you hesitate?”_

Zsasz reels from Jim’s request, only to hear him _also_ surrender. He knows in his gut the uncompromising Jim Gordon would _never_ yield to Penguin for _any_ reason. It’s not in his nature. Victor doesn’t buy it for one fucking second.

Zsasz’s face pinches with dread over whatever the hell Jim’s planning, but knows damn well the man will never tell him. Besides, Jim’s _business_ is _Jim’s_ business. If Jim wanted him to know, he’d say—the same way _he_ would. Victor tentatively nods with agreement.

“If that’s _really_ what you want.”

Jim smiles and nods.

“It’s not what I want but it's what I must do.”

He shuffles in closer to Victor and tucks his face into the crook of his neck. He wraps one arm around his waist and takes in a ragged breath.

“Victor, I have to go. I don’t know when I’ll return… I… I hope it’s soon. I just want you to know…” Jim lets out one shaky breath but steels himself and continues. “I want to be with _you_. I promise when I’m done, I’ll come back. I just wanted to let you know I’m not abandoning you. _I promise; I’ll come back_.”

Victor’s body goes rigid when he hears Jim plans to leave. He’s surprised by the level of his dismay, but respects Jim’s need to do what he feels must be done— _whatever_ it is. He frowns, puffs out a sigh and nods. He croaks as he caresses Jim’s face.

“I’ll _miss_ you.”

Jim peels his face from Victor’s neck and smiles. He strokes Victor’s face and whispers.

“Stay with me tonight. Let’s go get waffles in the morning one last time before I go.”

Victor tries to keep his smile easy as he gazes down at Jim and nods.

“Whatever you want, Jim.”

Zsasz watches his hand as it caresses Jim’s face and glides down to his neck. He smiles sadly as he looks into Jim’s eyes and draws him to his mouth. Victor closes his eyes and deeply kisses him. As he settles in for the night, he wraps himself around the man, hoping with every fiber of his being that this _isn’t_ their last night together and Jim really _does_ come back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Jim Gordon might be turning my Victor into a “real” boy with all those messy and complicated feelings. I know showing up at Jim’s and begging to be put out of his misery probably ain’t rational or healthy, but we are talkin’ Victor Zsasz.
> 
> Still though, I like the fact that (despite Victor’s discomfort) he’s not only developing feelings for Jim, but some self-awareness about them. Zsasz is not only coming to terms with those feelings, but mustering the courage to actually confess them. 
> 
> Last, but not least, Jim finally confessing some truths to Victor fills me with heart eye emojis. Finally! At long last, I have something to smile about in this phuccin’ fic! :D 
> 
> Again, writing Zsasz for this fic gave me some heartburn. And here I thought “Boxcutter” was challenging in the emotion department! But seriously though, despite all the heartburn, this is probably one of my favorite chapters—not just because it finally seems Jim wants to try to give Victor a _real_ shot, but because of the emotional depths Victor traverses in this fic: the gradual awareness that he _really does_ care deeply for Jim, him nuttin’ up and actually revealing how he feels (despite how foreign it all is to him) and his willingness to navigate some surprisingly deep emotional territory. 
> 
> Feel free to let us know your thoughts and thanks for the read. Seriously. Means a lot.
> 
> }8> -o-  
> 
> 
> ______
> 
> This chapter is one of my favorites because Jim confesses to Zsasz that he wants to be with him come what may. Of course that comes with one stipulation—no more hurting Harvey. 
> 
> Jim didn’t really have to tell Zsasz he was going. Of course its all a ruse. Jim can’t handle business if Victor is looking for him and given how the assassin loves to pop in unannounced that makes things difficult. Also Jim wants to get in one last night with Victor in case things take a turn for the worse. It would be difficult to tell Zsasz he loves him if he’s dead. SO! Jim wanted to make sure that Victor knows beyond a doubt how he feels for him.
> 
> So finally some good feelings... for now...... >:)
> 
> ~FC


	14. Oswald’s Acquiescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the light of last night’s events, Oswald decides to back off of Zsasz. The assassin delivers Jim’s unprecedented message to Penguin.

—>  <—

Ivy had set up a surveillance when Victor arrived to Jim’s apartment. She can see a bit of what is going on with the open slats in the blinds of the bedroom. There isn’t much light to discern details, but it’s obvious what Victor and Jim are doing. She also saw what happened the moment Jim entered the bedroom. Zsasz upset and begging Jim to pull the trigger.

Ivy huffs and leans one elbow on her knee as she slumps her chin into her palm.

_This sucks! From what I’ve seen, the guy only wants to be with Jim. Doesn’t seem to me he’s being a traitor. Although, I guess sleeping with a cop might be compromising on its own._

Ivy shrugs _._

She finds Zsasz’s particular skill sets, his enthusiasm to engage in them and attitude about it all, unsettling and extremely off-putting. However, she had been warming up to him. Victor never yelled, demeaned or talked down to her. Now that she thinks about it, he never _really_ talked at all but he was a good listener, patient at the very least.

She shakes her head and looks away from the windows; she doesn’t need to see anymore. She exhales a large sigh and gets out her phone.

“Hey…”

Bridgit muffles loudly through a mouthful of food.

“What up Pepper!”

Ivy chirps.

“Let’s go out and have some fun!”

“Sure!”

After her conversation with Bridgit, she snaps her phone shut. She glances at the windows and quickly leaves. Her heart almost feeling something for Victor and Jim.

 

—>  <—

The next day, Oswald wakes on the floor. His head pounding and his body aching. He shakily sits up and looks around in confusion. His sofa is moved and askew from where it was originally. There is broken glass in the fireplace and stains on the antique rug. He goes to stand and that’s when he notices his jacket missing its buttons as it hangs open. His shirt is partially ripped and hanging out of his pants. His eyes begin to widen when he realizes his pants are open. He looks around again and notices all the buttons on the floor. He then recalls bits of what happened last night.

Victor on him, touching him and clawing at his clothes. Oswald inhales a sharp breath as he places a hand to his mouth.

He hears a knock and the door opens.

Freeze walks in but stops in his tracks. He looks around the room then at Oswald. His brow furrows as he takes a step towards the crumpled and disheveled man. His monotone delivery absent as he blurts out.

“You never showed for breakfast and your meeting with territory bosses is in ten minutes. What happened?”

Oswald clutches at his open clothes as he musters what dignity he can; he states.

“Just a bit of a bender. Push back the meeting; let them know I’m going to be a couple of hours late. I need to freshen up.”

Freeze raises an eyebrow but nods. He takes one more look at the room and leaves Oswald in peace.

Oswald stands in the shower as his thoughts spin explanations about last night.

_Maybe I’m wrong and Zsasz was just trying to initiate an intimate moment with me. I’ve never done that with anyone so I’m sure I’m just remembering it all wrong. I was very inebriated and erect… wasn’t I? I always dismiss attraction as a bad thing; Edward really pounded that into me. But Victor was angry with me over the things I said. I’m not even sure what all I said to him…_

Oswald hurries and dresses. He descends the stairs to the main floor, heading to the large dining room where all the bosses are waiting. Olga began serving them coffee and refreshments while they waited.

After the meeting, Oswald sits in his study, his head still throbbing from his hangover. He hears his door open; it’s Freeze and he’s carrying a box. The man strides over and places it in front of Oswald. He states with a smile.

“I got you more. Since, you know... I ate all of yours last night.”

Oswald blinks up at the platinum-haired man and opens the pink box. Inside are rows of petit fours. He looks up at Victor and nods with a small smile.

“Th… thank you.”

Oswald looks away feeling uncomfortable with the moment, unsure if Fries is going to deliver a slight immediately following the kind gesture. After the experience he had last night, he doesn’t know how to react to anything anymore. He doesn’t want to give Freeze any ideas and have the large man take advantage of him.

He hears Fries inhale a small breath. The small kingpin inwardly cringes.

“Hey.”

Oswald reluctantly looks up and blinks in shock at the presented item before him.

In an outstretched hand, Freeze is holding a small penguin made out of ice. A playful smile graces his icy, illuminated face.

“I made this. Thought maybe we can put it at Edward’s feet.”

Freeze grins and tosses it a couple of times and then cradles it in his left arm like a football.

Oswald’s eyes lock onto the small statuette. He feels the onset of a smile forming, but he quickly looks away. An awful pang hits his gut; though he never had cause to be concerned in Freeze’s company, he withdraws into himself. He feels apprehensive (dare he say... _scared_?) of giving off the wrong impression and inadvertently invite more harm unto himself. He nods and shuffles through his paperwork.

“I have a lot of work to do, Victor. If you don’t mind…”

Freeze grins down at Oswald as the small kingpin goes through his mountain of paperwork. He turns as he states.

“I’ll go put it in the freezer till we head to the lounge.”

Oswald hears the man close the door. The whirl and buzz of Victor’s suit slowly fades down the long hallway. He looks up towards the door then back down at the gift of confectionaries. He opens the box and plucks a pastel blue cake out, quickly popping it into his mouth.

 

—>z<—

That afternoon, Victor drives to the Van Dahl estate in a daze, thinking endlessly about Jim and the time they just spent together. He constantly circles back to the detective’s promise to return to him, but can’t shake the nagging suspicion that Jim's secret endeavor will be his undoing and he _won’t_ be coming back. _Ever_.

It isn’t until he gets closer to the mansion that his concerns about Jim morph into the dread of facing Penguin again. He’d almost forgotten the series of events that led him to Jim’s apartment the previous night and the childhood memories he fought _so hard_ to forget. Jim makes him forget _everything_. Zsasz is briefly tempted to say to hell with it all and never go back, but he has a job to do and commitments to keep to his men. He also assured Jim he’d deliver his message.

Victor’s surprised by his level of apprehension when he strides through the service entrance. As he makes his way through, he sees Olga return from serving Penguin. He smiles with relief at the _one_ person who has yet to shut him out.

“Hey, Olga. Is uh, The Boss available?”

She points him to the study. Once there, Zsasz takes a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Boss.”

Oswald is in the middle of lunch but almost chokes when he hears _his_   _voice_. He spits out his mouthful into a napkin and wipes his face with a clean corner. He pushes his plate aside and ensures he doesn’t have crumbs on him. His heart feels as though it’s racing at million beats per minute. He swallows and tries to call out with the same sharp tone he’s known for, only when he addresses Victor there is a higher pitch that cracks when he speaks out.

“Uh… C… Come in.”

Oswald clears his throat and looks down at the pile of contracts on his desk, pretending to be fully engaged in work.

Victor briefly looks down and presses his lips together before entering. He walks in and fights to keep his posture relaxed, working to combat his body’s rigidity. He can barely look Penguin in the eye and rubs the back of his neck.

“I just came by to check on today’s assignment. You uh… never said what you wanted me on today.”

Victor takes a breath and shifts his weight, averting his gaze from Penguin and looking to his desk instead.

Oswald can’t bring himself to look up at Zsasz. He lays the pen down and grabs the corner of his paperwork, thumbing the staple. He inhales a sharp breath and clears his throat.

“There are several large details I need you on. The copies of the fresh licenses are here.”

Oswald pulls out the stack from a tray. Just as he does, the door to his study opens. Freeze walks in and towards Oswald’s desk; he eyes Zsasz up and down as he walks past the uncomfortable looking assassin. He makes his way next to Oswald. The small kingpin looks up at Freeze and offers a small smile, feeling more confident with his frosty enforcer in the room. Oswald holds out the copies for Zsasz to take. Freeze eyes the stack and glares at Victor.

Zsasz is no fan of Fries or his smart-assed remarks, so he’s surprised at the relief he feels when the iceman walks in. Zsasz makes his way towards Penguin’s desk and takes the paperwork from his hand. As he glances at Oswald, all he can do is recall what he did to him the night prior. He clears his throat.

“You uh… usually give these directly to my men.”

Freeze begins to bristle.

“Hey! Don’t you...”

“Freeze.”

Freeze glances down at Oswald who is looking up at him with tightly pressed lips and a small shake of his head. He turns his attention back down to his paperwork and nods.

“I will let you distribute the workload however you see fit. There are a few more things I need you to do. Some rival gangs are testing our territories. I have the information from this morning’s meeting.”

Oswald slides a paper over to Zsasz.

“Feel free to kill whoever you want; terrorize however you want. I just want them under control. That’s all, Zsasz.”

Oswald keeps his eyes cast down on his paperwork.

Zsasz peers at the offered paperwork rather than look at Penguin. He braces himself for the inevitable castigation and ridicule, only to blink in astonishment when there is none.

He nods, takes the paperwork and prepares to make a hasty exit when he suddenly remembers Jim’s message—the one he fears Jim is only saying in hopes of getting Penguin to back off. Zsasz crinkles his brow and looks down, pressing his lips together before tentatively addressing the kingpin.

“Uh… Boss? Jim Gordon has a message for you. He says the GCPD won’t oppose Pax Penguina anymore and… he won’t either.”

Oswald finally looks directly at Zsasz. His astonishment only surpassed by his disbelief. He gapes at Victor as his brow furrows and asks.

“And what brought on this uncharacteristic acquiescence?

Victor shrugs and shakes his head. He’s been fixated on the same damn thing ever since Jim told him the night prior.

“I dunno. He uh... just wanted to make sure I told you.”

Oswald looks up at Freeze then addresses Zsasz.

“Well, I imagine what you did to Harvey was an eye opener. Go and complete those tasks.”

Victor gives a determined nod before striding out.

“On it.”

Oswald watches as Zsasz exits his study in haste. He then hangs his head as his hands stretch out on his desk.

Freeze turns to Oswald and raises an eyebrow. The small kingpin is staring at his paperwork, his fingers slowly clawing back and forth on the surface of the desk. He notices Oswald’s hands are also shaking; he looks at the mop of raven hair on top of the bowed head. There is a shudder but it immediately stops. Freeze furrows his brow and softly asks.

“Oswald, are you okay?”

Oswald can feel the sting of tears in his eyes; he stiffens. His thoughts seethe with all the ways he wishes to dispatch Zsasz, but his men and women make up ninety percent of his enforcers and all of them much better equipped and trained to handle large details.

_If I do away with him now, his men and women wouldn’t pledge their loyalty to me. Especially THOSE women, the ones that actually get most of the dangerous work done. His men I might be able to sway with higher pay, but those women of his would make things difficult. His people make up most of my enforcers. I need to keep him alive for now._

Oswald snaps out of his thoughts as a tear rolls down his cheek. He keeps his head bowed and responds to Fries.

“I’m perfectly fine!”

Freeze continues with his questioning, undeterred by Oswald’s retort.

“Are we going easy on Zsasz now?”

Oswald sniffles and quickly wipes his face. He remarks in a stern tone.

“I’ve gathered all the information I need about Zsasz. I know for a _fact_ how much Jim Gordon means to him. I’m also certain Jim would _never back down_ from anything that opposes him, no matter the cost. Zsasz is lying to me. _I know he is._ It’s all to protect his precious detective. How unfortunate for my treacherous Victor Zsasz how much I actually know about them both. I want to see if he will let Jim interfere with my empire. If there is so much as a sign that Gordon is still meddling with Pax Penguina I will end them _both_.”

Freeze nods but his look of concern doesn’t cease. He digs into his utility belt and comes down on one knee beside the sullen kingpin. He takes out a small shimmering device that’s glowing blue. He leans his right elbow on his propped up knee as his fingers hold up the small metal ball.

“Hey, look. I made something that might put a smile on your face.”

Oswald turns his attention to the kneeling man, his wet eyes widening as the lights catch his attention.

Freeze presses a button and says with a smile.

“Blow your breath right above it. In that light.”

Oswald scoffs as an uneasy smile creeps on his lips. He shakes his head and blows. To his amazement, his breath is captured by the ray of cerulean light emitted by the ball. It begins to crystalize as it suspends over the beam. The soothing light shines through the ensnared crystals and emits a blue radiance that shimmers. The brilliance dances and twinkles in the small area between him and Freeze. Oswald’s face stretches into a rare open mouth smile as he lets out a small chuckle. His eyes then lock on Freeze.

Freeze smiles back at him as his silvery eyes track back and forth on pale green eyes. He nods towards the device and says in a soft voice.

“Take it. It’s yours. I was gonna surprise you on opening night, but it looked like you needed a smile.”

Oswald swallows, feeling uncomfortable in another moment with Freeze. He nods and takes the small blue sphere. He watches as Freeze rises to his feet and begins to leave the study. He turns before he leaves the room and states.

“I’ll be out at the weapons shipment with Bridgit early tonight. Ivy is out taking care of last minute lounge invitations. I’ll… uh… leave before your food gets cold.”

Fries smirks as he walks out.

Oswald turns to his food then back at the empty doorway. He shrugs. He places the device on his desk and loses himself in the lights.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, Ivy! :3
> 
> Oh and Fries? Like seriously, I didn’t recognize him not being a d!ck. Oh right. It’s because he was alone with Pengy. He was still a d!ck with Zsasz/me. *shakes my head* 
> 
> In other news, uh.... Zsasz/me facing Oswald? ...uh… *very awkward and uncomfortable* 
> 
> }8> -o-
> 
> ______
> 
> We all know how much Oswald loves playing the long game. His attitude and uncertainty about what Zsasz did to him the night prior plays a bit into my own thoughts about blame shifting. Having had been molested and certain I WAS AT FAULT... I never did anything about it. Trying to just get through the day with either blocking out the event or finding excuses to keep status quo in the family unit are just few of the unhealthy coping mechanisms I have had. I find this a totally believable thing for Oswald to do, especially with being lonely, having been drunk, and having no experience in matters of attraction.
> 
> Maybe people will disagree but that is fine... Not everyone handles things the same way.
> 
> ~FC


	15. Wendell's Weaponry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim seeks out Headhunter for some lethal equipment. Zsasz gets to work enforcing and protecting Oswald’s large Pax Penguina investments.

—>j<—

Saturday evening, Jim relaxes at Mean Jean’s bar.

_I’m going to need some versatile weapons. That way I can deal with large numbers. I kill everyone. No exceptions. I just need to make sure I can dispatch my targets quickly. Once I do this, I’ll have to keep this secret till the day I die or turn myself in._

_If I turn myself in, I’ll be breaking my promise to Victor and my mother will be heartbroken and alone…_

Jim swallows and frets over his decision. Victor and his mother are the only two people he can’t bear the thought of hurting.

Mean Jean comes from the back room and strides over to the contemplative detective. He roughly pats Jim on the back and beams him a big smile. Jim almost spills beer all over himself with the friendly rough gesture. He smiles and nods at the large muscular man.

“Jean, how’re you doing?”

Jean takes a stool next to Jim and leans both elbows on the bar. The older man’s visage turns hard as his thick grey eyebrows knit together. He tenses his muscles that stretch and pull at the already straining fabric of his white t-shirt. He grumbles and scoffs.

“Ehhhhh!... How are things at the GCPD, _copper?_ ”

Jim shakes his head and grins at the old man. He inhales a slow breath and states.

“Shitty.”

Mean Jean nods his head and purses his lips. He turns in his stool as he sucks his teeth.

“That Penguin has a tight hold of the streets. I imagine you and your fellow law enforcers are getting the worst of it.”

Jim nods and as he finishes his beer.

“We are so divided and fighting amongst each other. Oswald doesn’t even need to strong arm us anymore. Every day is a new hell.”

Mean Jean strums his knuckles on the wood surface of the bar and nods. He gruffs loudly.

“My bounty hunters are feeling the strain. No bounties— _no money!_ Hell, some of them _wanted crooks_ took out licenses to keep from getting apprehended by hunters. That fucking little asshole is even dipping into bars and clubs— _I_ _had to get a license to run my own business!_ It’s murdering my side gig. This city is going to hell in a handbasket!”

Jim sips his beer and turns to Jean. He smirks and adds.

“You could always go back to being a gigolo.”

The old man bursts into raucous laughter. He taps an index finger to his nose at Jim.

Jim shakes his head and scoffs.

“As far as Pax Penguina goes, I got a feeling Oswald’s going to feel some backlash, soon. It’s kind of why I’m here; Headhunter coming in tonight?”

Jean shakes his head.

“Believe or not, he and his people have pimped themselves out as private security. People are scared of getting robbed and killed by licensed criminals. Security service is starting to have great demand. Told him he’s gonna earn Penguin’s displeasure and have that Zsasz guy after him. He laughed it off. You know how he is.”

Jim chuckles and replies.

“Headhunter always lands on his feet; that man is charmed.

Jean busts out a loud laugh and slaps the bar with one large hand.

“That he is. He must’ve been born with a four-leaf clover up his ass.”

Jim nods and digs out his wallet as he asks.

“Know where I can find him?”

Mean Jean rubs his chin and thinks a moment.

“Well, last I heard, he dwells in town not too far from the strip. He might be hard to track down since he’s busy these days. I would try that strip club… uh…. starts with an ‘S’... uh.”

Jim jumps in.

“Scarlet’s?”

Mean Jean points at Jim and nods.

“Oooooooh yeah. That’s the one; tons of succulent ass and titties in that place!”

The old man cackles.

Jim lays cash on the bar and pats Jean on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Jean. I promise to come by one day strictly for your company and beer. I need to go.”

The old man nods and watches as Jim makes his way to the exit. Jean calls out before he opens the door.

“Swift!”

Jim stops and turns around.

Jean hollers as he holds up a beer.

“Whatever you got planned against Penguin, count me and my boys in. Let us know how we can help.”

Jim smirks and nods once. He almost makes it out the door when a thought hits him. He hollers back.

“Jean, how big is your freezer?”

The old man raises an eyebrow and chuckles.

“Big enough to hide all the bodies you need.”

Jim laughs and shakes his head as he replies.

“Okay, I will contact you later.”

Jim winks as he makes a hasty exit.

He quickly heads to his motorcycle and makes the trek downtown. He cruises down the crowded strip and finds parking at a bar across the street from Scarlet’s. Jim makes his way inside the garish strip club. All the lights are red and the floor dark save for the main stage where two twin blondes are dancing on one pole, one woman higher up on the pole than the other. They both execute a synchronized dance with flawless precision. Both women have nothing on but red heels and nipple covers with red glittery tassels. Jim stops to appreciate the view for a moment then starts making his rounds around the main floor.

After several passes, he’s sure Headhunter isn’t patronizing the club that night. Jim leaves and heads back to his Yamaha. He‘s about to mount his bike when he glances inside the bar and sees Headhunter with a couple of men make their way to the exit. Jim walks towards the door and waits.

Headhunter comes out of the bar and notices Jim. He flashes him a large white smile. He turns to his friends and excuses himself.

“Swift, you sexy devil! Out for a good time? Come join us.”

Headhunter clasps Jim’s shoulders with both hands. Jim smiles and shakes his head.

“I wish. I was looking for you. I’m here on business.”

Headhunter nods; he glances at the motorcycle and whistles.

“Is this yours?”

Jim nods. Headhunter approaches the Yamaha and inspects it. He grins up at Jim.

“The Supersport, very nice. If you’re here on business with me, I insist you join me for some drinks. We’re headed to Scarlet’s.”

Jim sighs and grudgingly yields to the request by stiffly nodding. He wants to get started with his plans sooner rather than later. Headhunter claps his hands and rushes up to him. The bounty hunter pulls him in as he steers Jim towards the strip club. Jim relaxes when he concedes that one night of fun isn’t going to alter anything.

“Sure, okay. How can I refuse?”

Headhunter signals to his other friends to start heading to Scarlet’s. The group enters and heads towards the back of the establishment.

Headhunter turns to Jim and purrs with a large smile.

“VIP section, so we can get our dicks wet.”

Jim smiles uneasily as he gets led to a private area that has two smaller rooms attached for private sexual interactions.

Two hours later, Jim is feeling pretty drunk from the shots Headhunter insisted he scarf down with him and the limitless beers that keep stacking on the table. He’s sitting at a booth with a raven haired dancer on his lap. She straddles him as she undulates and presses her breasts in his face. Jim watches her with a big goofy smile as his eyes roam her body, taking in her coloring. He runs his hands all over her, mesmerized by her skin.

_So creamy white like Victor…_

The girl stands and takes his hand to lead him to a room. Jim resists the pull and shakes his head.

Headhunter comes out of a room, zipping up his pants as a tall redhead strolls out the door with a hand full of cash. Headhunter’s other friends are busy enjoying lap dances and lost in their own worlds. The smiling dark man grabs a beer from one of the many littering the table. He sits next to the drunk detective, laughing as he playfully chides Jim.

“Swift! She won’t bite! Unless you want her to. Join the lady!”

Jim laughs as he shakes his head. He’s drunk— _not desperate_. He never did like fucking random people. He finds sex more enjoyable with someone who intrigues him. Plus, he feels committed to Victor after their last night together. They never actually talked about monogamy or commitment; it was something that was just understood when they parted ways. Jim isn’t worried that Victor will fuck other men to satiate his desires while he is away and he has no intention of fooling around on Zsasz. Jim has seen what jealousy does to Victor and he isn’t about to put someone else in danger of earning the assassin’s murderous intentions.

“Nah… I’m… sorta… uh… in uh… a relationship?”

Headhunter raises an eyebrow and dismisses the woman. He sits next to Jim and drinks down his beer. He slams down the empty bottle and looks Jim up and down. He asks.

“ _Sorta?_ Doesn’t sound like a relationship. Who is the lucky woman?”

Jim smiles as he blurts out.

“Not a wo… woman…”

Headhunter grins and chuckles.

“Ahhhh. Maybe we’ll go to The Prime Rib and find something more of your speed then. I like both so it’s all good to me. My friends over there are straight; that’s why we wanted to come here. So, who’s the lucky _man?_   _Damn…_ you know what… _please_ don’t say that captain of yours! I know you two are close...”

Jim shakes his head and slurs.

“Nah… he… uh doessssent… work for the G… G… umm P D. He’s… so…(hiccups)... perfect. Gorgeous… dangerous… creamy white … (hiccups) smooth skin… expert… with… umm… guns… knives… (chuckles) ... _his dick_.”

Headhunter halts from reaching for a new beer and turns to face Jim. He raises an eyebrow and remarks incredulously.

“Hold the phone man…”

Headhunter leans in close and continues.

“Are you talking about Victor Zsasz? You in with that tomcat?”

Jim blinks at Headhunter and nods.

“Yeah… him.”

Headhunter shakes his head and reaches for another beer. He twists off the cap and takes a long swig. He sets the bottle down and leans in.

“Listen summer child, Victor Zsasz _does not_ have relationships. Did he throw it to you and you got yourself all messed up over him? That man has half of Gotham crying over that dick of his. The man knows how to _work his magic_ , and yeah, he gives it _good_ but he ain’t boyfriend material.”

Jim grins and eyes Headhunter.

“We’ve… (hiccups)... been... fuckin’ for…” Jim thinks for a bit and counts on his fingers. “We’ve… been boning… for… ummm over… this many months.” He holds out several fingers and wiggles them. “Shit… wasted. I can’t think. But it’s… been plenty!”

Headhunter is flabbergasted. His surprise evident in his voice.

“No shit!? _What… the… fuck!_? Swift! Did you tame Victor Zsasz!? Holy shit!”

Headhunter mutters to himself as he rubs his chin.

“Well that explains why I haven't seen him in any of the usual haunts…”

Headhunter turns back to his goofy-grinned, drunk cohort.

“You fucking legendary… I can’t wait to tell the guys about _this_.”

Jim’s face loses its smile.

“I… tried to end it….but uh… it… uh jussss made things… worse. Things…(hiccups)...turned… to shit… Penguin… dat fuckin’... Pax… Zsasz… he was so lost when I…(shakes his head)... he… showed u...up at… my apartment… wantin’ me to kill him.”

Headhunter’s smile fades.

“Mmm. That’s uncharacteristic of him.”

Headhunter smiles as he shuffles in closer to Jim, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

“Well, if you weren’t in a relationship with _The Devil_ I would insist on a sample of what drove Zsasz so insane.”

Jim peers at Headhunter and laughs.

“You’d be dis… disappointed.”

Headhunter reclines back into the booth and shakes out a cigarette. He lights the stick and inhales a slow draw. He exhales through his nose as he turns to Jim.

“So, Swift what did you need of me?”

Jim rubs his face to try to get himself to focus.

“Weapons.”

Headhunter inhales another drag and exhales as he speaks.

“Going hunting, Swift?!”

Jim nods.

Headhunter smiles as he gets out of the booth. He makes his way to his friends and gives them some cash. He returns to Jim and pulls him out of the booth. He wraps Jim’s arm over his shoulder as he helps the drunk man out of the club. They make their way outside through a back exit of Scarlet's and down an alley road. Headhunter asserts with amusement.

“Well Swift, you’re not in any condition to buy weapons from me as drunk as you are. I think you should come to my place and sleep it off. I’ll make us breakfast and we can discuss business; I make a mean omelette.”

Jim nods and is about to say something but instead lurches, puking on himself. Headhunter grimaces and nods as some of the splatter hits his boots.

“I will take ownership of this puke since I forced all those shots down your throat. Come on, just keep walking with me; my pad isn’t far.”

Headhunter makes his way to a large building with bricked in windows. He presses a bell and one of his men opens the door. He enters the long hallway that opens out to a large main floor furnished with a long wooden table where several men are on their phones talking with clients.

Headhunter and his men live in an old manufacturing plant that has been retrofitted to suit their needs. There’s a large main area where they congregate to go over workloads and to socialize. The basement houses their weapons cache and interrogation rooms. The second floor has over ten bedrooms, four bathrooms and a fully functioning large kitchen. Headhunter lives on the main floor in the back which is equipped with a separate and complete apartment.

The man that opened the door follows as he gives Headhunter some news.

“Hey man, got word that enforcers tried to strong arm two of our guys from protecting Mrs. Livingston’s estate. They got into an altercation and the robbers are dead. The enforcers made out with some wounds. They want to know what they should do with them. They got them tied up.”

Headhunter gestures with his head to follow him and Jim. He enters his apartment.

“Are they Penguin’s men or Zsasz’s?”

The large man replies.

“Penguin’s”

Headhunter nods and says.

“Eighty-six ‘em. Then send clean up crew for the bodies.”

The man nods as he whips his phone out, leaving the private quarters.

Headhunter takes the barely conscious detective to a bathroom and seats him on the floor by the toilet.

Jim gives a sloppy grin and hangs on the cold porcelain.

“Okay Swift, if you feel the need to puke, turn your head. I’m gonna take off your vomit covered clothes and throw them in the wash. Good thing you tried to lean over and didn’t get your riding jacket. Your pants however are saturated.”

Headhunter unzips Jim’s jacket and throws it on the sink counter. He works off Jim’s tee shirt and throws it on the floor.

“So uh, exactly how did you and Victor hook up? I mean you two are on different sides of the law. I bet the first time you two fucked it was— _wild!_ Am I right?”

Jim laughs and nods.

Headhunter laughs as he unzips Jim’s pants. He then yanks off Jim’s boots and says.

“Okay come on, gonna need you to help peel these disgusting things off.”

Jim grabs at his waistbands and yanks it all down as he shimmies on the floor.

“Um… a shower?”

Headhunter nods as he yanks up the naked man from the floor. He turns to get the shower started. The large stall whooshes with the sound of shower heads in the ceiling raining down. He gestures to Jim to enter.

Jim hustles into the water and leans both palms on the wall to steady himself on his feet. Jim hangs his head and enjoys the cold water as it cascades over his body.

Headhunter watches, greedily assessing Jim’s backside. He rubs his chin and raises an eyebrow when he sees the tally marks on the distracted man’s ass and back. He mutters under his breath.

“ _No—shit?_ Victor done _claimed_ this man.”

He studies Jim’s backside and nods.

_Well, I can see why. Oh man, I can’t let Victor live this down._

Headhunter takes out his phone and snaps a few pictures of Jim in the shower. He then hollers.

“Yo, gonna put your putrid shit in the wash. There’s a bedroom down the hall to the left you can crash in man.”

Jim nods and replies.

“Thanks.”

Headhunter throws Jim’s clothes in the wash and shoots Victor a text.

_"Yo, Vic…_

_Meow…_

_Heard cats tame themselves."_

_(Inserts cat emoji with heart eyes)_

Headhunter chuckles and heads to the main floor. His phone chimes with a text from Victor. He walks to his bedroom as he replies. He has a busy day tomorrow and wants some rest before then.

—>z<—

Saturday, Victor works non-stop familiarizing himself with Pax details and licenses after getting the green light to take lead again the day prior. He and The Girls are preparing to head out and remind Penguin’s challengers who _really_ runs Gotham.

Generally speaking, he doesn’t stress because he’s usually prepared for anything. However, he really feels the pressure after having been benched for so long. He also can’t help but wonder if Jim’s already set out to do what he “has to” and hopes his nagging suspicions are wrong.

 _Jim’s_ **_damn_ ** _good. No doubt. But not even_ **_he_ ** _can topple Penguin all on his own. If he does…_

Zsasz can already feel the familiar weight of his Sig and its barrel against the head of blonde hair below him. He envisions looking to Penguin, waiting for the order.

_“End him, Victor.”_

He imagines cocking the hammer and gazing down into those cornflower blue eyes. He can almost hear Jim’s whispered voice.

_“I’m yours..._

_...I love you, Victor.”_

The sound Xochitl teasing him with his trademark motto brings him back. 

“Relax, Boss.”

Victor usually gets a kick out his favorite smart ass’ wisecracks and laughs right along with her, but _not this time._ He slowly blinks and shoots her an unamused glare. She scrunches her mouth to one side of her face and looks the other direction as she apologizes.

“Oh. Sorry, Vic.”

Zsasz looks up briefly, presses his eyes and puffs out a sigh. He shakes it off to get his head back in the game. He grabs her neck and assertively kisses the side of her head.

“It’s okay.”

He turns and stretches a wry smile at her and the rest of The Girls.

“Let’s go have some fun, ladies.”

—

Victor kicks back in his ‘67 Chevy and watches The Girls saunter right up to two heavily-armed men guarding the front door of a rival gang’s hangout. He watches the men ogle them as they approach. He puffs out an amused snort and shakes his head at how easily The Girls seduce them and infiltrate the building. It never ceases to amaze him how many men extend carte blanche to unknown women.

_Sure they’re hot as hell, but you idiots have no idea what you just got yourselves into._

By the time he struts in, The Girls have everyone right where they want them. Five disarmed men are on the floor with their hands behind their backs and a few more stand with their hands raised in surrender. Despite the men’s spectacular failure, one jackass catcalls Ursula.

“Holy shit, Dominic. Will ya check out the tits on this one!” He nods at her Sig. “You sure you know how to use that thing, babe?”

Zsasz turns and gives the asshole a withering stare. Ursula is _more_ than capable of handling herself, but the taunting cretin reminds him a little too much of another entitled pretty boy who gets away with shit because of his looks. (The fact he’s a little over six feet with curly dark hair and eyes doesn’t help.)

After an epic beating and shooting out both the man’s knee caps, Victor straddles the crushed man on the floor. He sits on the man’s abdomen, pins down his arms with his knees and locks the guy like a vise between his legs. Victor takes abundant pleasure tangling his fingers into the mop of curly hair to carve up and peel back a portion of the screaming man’s face. Afterwards, he stands and smiles down at exquisitely tormented man.

“I personally think it’s an improvement. Gives you _character_. Now you’re not just a pretty face. People can appreciate you for what you are _underneath_.”

He tilts his head, pulls down the corners of his mouth and promptly kicks the man’s head. As he turns to smile back at The Girls, he notices Tasha, Astrid and Xochitl all exchanging glances.

—

All and all, their evening is a success. A dozen or so broken bones, a dislocated jaw, several snipped digits, some broken teeth and three tallies later, Zsasz and The Girls successfully remind three rival gangs who the reigning sovereign of Gotham is and indoctrinate them into the Pax Penguina. Later, when they go check on his men, Victor smiles at a text he receives from a dear friend with whom he goes _way_ back:

_“Yo, Vic…_

_Meow…_

_Heard cats tame themselves.”_

_(cat emojis with heart eyes)_

Zsasz scrunches up his face and tilts his head in confusion before replying.

_“Wendy!_

_srsly dude wtf?_

_can’t tame a cat_

_esp a tomcat_

_don't you have something better_

_to do besides give me shit?_

_: ) ”_

_“Oh some do…_

_Yeah...I’m plenty busy. Peace!”_

_“?_  
_good to hear from you man_  
_take care bro”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot tell you how excited I am about getting to this point in the story. HH and Jim Gordon make a hilarious team. I laughed so hard I almost peed myself when I first read FC’s delicious scene with them at Scarlet’s! 
> 
> Personal faves: _“So, who’s the lucky man? Damn… you know what… please don’t say that captain of yours. I know you two are close...”_ and his disbelief at Jim and Zsasz’s “relationship”. Oh, then the post-Scarlet’s puke and the phuccin’ hilarity of HH snapping pics of Jimbo in the shower so he can later tease his boy, Victor?! ERMAHGERD!
> 
> Oh, special shout out to Tumblr’s belathora who was the first one I ever saw reference Wendell as “Wendy”... and (now that I think about it) also the one I first saw reference “The Girls” as “The Girls”. (What is it they say? “Imitation is the highest form of flattery” or some such! I love you long time, belathora!) }8> -o-
> 
> ______
> 
> When I wrote Jim and monogamy in this chapter it occurred to me that these two never discussed such things. I mean would Jim be upset that Victor was out fucking randos while he went on a vigilante spree?? Fuck...I dunno. Maybe? But I think Jim doesn’t think like that... really. At least when it comes to Victor. Can’t be upset over something that was never discussed...
> 
> Jim’s insistence on not foolin’ around on Zsasz (other than he’s in love with the dude) is cause he doesn’t want to put anyone in danger. Plus holy crap, Zsasz is kind of a handful for Jim. Between his vendetta, his professional image and what little personal life he has... Zsasz fills in whatever gaps are left. =)
> 
> Not that he is complaining...I love it when Zsasz fills in Jim’s gaps >;0
> 
> ~FC
> 
> _I love it when Victor fills in Jim’s gaps too! Every. last. one. <3 }8> _


	16. In Flies a Bat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim finds special provisions with Headhunter that aids his schemes. Bruce Wayne and Alfred deal with unfolding events at a fundraiser while Lucius Fox tails Victor Zsasz.

—>j<—

Next day, late Sunday morning:

_Jim is laying in the backseat of the Impala waiting for Victor to join him. He sees movement in the front seat. Jim turns his head and, to his horror, he sees Victor fucking the young blonde he brought when he sought him at Scarlet’s. Jim sits up as the young man peers over at him with a triumphant look._

_Jim goes to reach for Victor but the young blonde grabs his hand and snarls as Victor fucks him harder._

_“He_ **_never_ ** _loved you! Why do you think he never said it?”_

Jim wakes from the nightmare and peels his head from the pillow. He looks around the dark strange room as confusion settles over him. He plops his head back on the pillow as he slowly recalls his drunkfest last night. He hears someone whistling from down the hall. The sounds of cooking and the aromas of food drift into the room. Jim groans and eventually rolls out of the bed as he clutches his aching head. He ambles his way out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.

He sees Wendell deeply engrossed in his task of cracking eggs and adding them to a bowl to whisk. He’s in a black silk robe with house slippers. The man appears chipper as he bebops around the kitchen to the mellow beats of Erykah Badu.

Jim groggily croaks out.

“Hey…”

The bounty hunter doesn’t turn around but gestures towards a pot of coffee.

“Hey man, coffee’s in the pot. Serve yourself.”

Jim slowly makes his way to the coffee pot and grabs a cup next to the coffee maker. He croaks out as he pours.

“I must have forgotten why I never get hammered. Thanks for the reminder.”

The tall dark man chuckles; he eyes Jim as he prepares his cup. His hungover guest is in nothing but boxers, lower back tally marks peeking over the waistband. He shakes his head and grins then quips back.

“Sometimes you have to live a little.”

Jim smiles as he plops onto a barstool at the kitchen island, holding onto his coffee with both hands. His host slides over a plate filled with omelette in front of him. Jim groans and nods.

“Thanks, I think my stomach can’t handle food right at this moment.”

Jim watches as Headhunter slides bread into a toaster and then pours some water into a glass. He slides it over to Jim.

“Greasy food is the hangover cure all. Eat up.”

Headhunter plates his breakfast and grabs a fork. He leans over the island and starts to eat.

“So, what kind of weapons are you wanting and what can you pay?”

Jim grins. He swallows half his glass of water and begins to eat.

“Do you have payment plans?”

Headhunter stops chewing and looks up. He scoffs and shakes his head.

“Well, since we’re working on your good standing with me, how about you show me where else on that body of yours Victor marked you. Then I'll consider _loaning_ you some weapons. Provided I get paid for my generosity later— _of course_.”

Jim eyes grow huge and he stutters out.

“Wh… what? How...”

“You said a lot of stuff last night about you and Zsasz. I want proof; then, we can continue with business.”

Headhunter winks as he heads to his couch in the living room.

Jim can feel his heartbeat in his throat. He watches in disbelief as his host plops himself on the couch and throws an arm over the backrest. He is beaming Jim a large toothy smile.

“Come here…” Headhunter points a finger to the space between his legs “Right… here. Show me.”

Jim inhales a deep breath and slides off the stool.

_He’s one of the few weapons dealers in town that purchases weapons from outside sources and not Oswald. Just swallow some pride and give him what he wants._

Jim makes his way over. He turns his body so his backside is facing Headhunter; he lowers his boxers to expose the marks. He slowly slips them past his ass cheeks; a flush of heat settles on his face. He turns his head to look back at the grinning man.

Headhunter reaches out and fingers the marks on Jim’s back. His eyes then catch the ones in the folds at the base of his asscheeks. He quickly leans forward and wraps an arm around Jim’s legs to pull him closer. His other hand begins to squeeze and lift Jim’s taut cheeks.

Jim flinches and lets the grip on his boxers go. He twists his body around, wanting to pry the man off but stops himself.

Headhunter thumbs the marks and asks.

“And what are the significance of these tallies?”

Jim blushes and mutters.

“How many times he’s made me cum.”

Headhunter laughs and eyes all the tally marks.

“Only fifteen times? You said you two were with each other for months.”

Jim turns around and opens his leg with the other five marks.

Headhunter busts out laughing and nods.

“Rookie numbers. If you were mine, it would be double that.”

Jim quickly bends over and pulls up his boxers.

“Well, in his defense, I’ve been avoiding him. Our relationship has been messing with our heads.”

The dark man nods and reclines back into the sofa as he states.

“I have a feeling I know what you’re going to do. Going against Penguin is foolhardy. You’re also placing Victor in a difficult position. If you succeed, you’ll have him out of a job, maybe earning his _animosity_ in the process.”

Jim sits on the sofa and sighs.

The memory of them in the woods after they had sex pops into Jim’s mind.

_“I know what I’m doing is only making things difficult. The Pax Penguina is something I have to stop and I know Oswald will send you after me soon.”_

_Victor’s tone is pleading and his voice ragged as he replies._

_“Don’t give him a reason to.”_

Jim was shocked that Victor would even suggest that he stop. And though his love for Victor runs deep, he’s unable to give into this one thing Victor requested. Jim doesn’t know if Zsasz would hold it against him that he lied or that he wants to inadvertently end Victor’s career by toppling Penguin’s empire. Jim crosses his arms and makes up his mind that the greater good is what’s at stake. He will just have to hope that Zsasz will forgive him. Jim turns to Headhunter and states matter-of-factly.

“I know this. He knows this. He wants me to stop. I can’t do that. So, do you have weapons for me?”

Headhunter turns and smiles.

“Do I ever.”

Jim looks around his apartment and adds.

“Also, mind if I crash here for a bit?”

Headhunter jerks his head back and raises an eyebrow. He then flashes his teeth as a lopsided grin leaps onto his face.

“First, I have to _trust_ I’ll get reimbursed for the weapons I’m going to _lend_ you and now you want to crash at _my pad?_ That’s definitely going to cost you. Seriously!”

Jim smiles and shrugs then remarks.

“Remember that one bounty you and I were both after? The one guy who weighed two-eighty maybe more. He had you tied up and sat on your ass? I came in and rescued you before he slit your throat. Remember that? Yeah, I’m calling in that favor.”

Headhunter sucks his teeth and crosses his arms.

“Look, okay fine! But you better pick up after yourself and keep your shit clean. This is my place of Zen. Don’t _fuck_ with my Feng Shui!”

Jim grins.

“You’ll barely know I’m here.”

Headhunter sucks his teeth again.

“I already know you’re here, _asshole!_ I would ask for some ass but I know you ain’t gonna give it to me. Instead, I’m gonna have some major blue balls for however long you’re here and my wallet isn’t any thicker for it!”

Jim shuffles in closer and drapes an arm over Headhunter’s shoulder. He leans in and purrs.

“Whatever spoils I get from my little endeavours all go to you. I promise at the end of it all you will have your money. Can’t say what state your balls will be in, but at least your wallet will be fat.”

Headhunter wraps his arms around Jim as a hand reaches down and claws at his ass. He leans in to growl in Jim’s ear.

“Better deliver or I’m fucking you each day you don’t. I’m going to bust major nuts all up inside that little ass of yours. I don’t give a shit if you belong to Zsasz.”

Headhunter removes his hands from Jim and beams him a wide grin.

Jim bites his lower lip and turns to get up as he side glances his smug host.

“Deal. I’m going to get dressed; then I would like to see what weapons you’re willing to let me use.”

 

—>  <—

Later that afternoon, Oswald is on the way to his tailor’s. His limo driver is driving him around in a discreet town car. He insists that when there are errands to be done, he requires discretion when riding around the city.

His mind is preoccupied with his next auction event. The sound of a motorcycle coming to a stop next to his town car snaps him from his thoughts. The car windows are deeply tinted, allowing Oswald to gaze out but no one to see in. He turns and notices it’s Jim. His mouth gapes but quickly closes as he clenches his jaw. His gaze takes in the casually attired detective, never figuring him for a motorcycle rider.

Jim’s in his black and red trimmed riding jacket, dark jeans, boots and leather gloves. The man flicks his hair out of his eyes as he places his hands on his hips to wait for the green light.

Oswald raises an eyebrow at how natural Jim looks on the bright red death machine.

_Maybe I will get lucky and he’ll wipe out on that contraption._

Oswald stews. He hates how handsome the detective is and seeing him just solidifies his hatred of the man’s good looks. Oswald then swallows; a pang hits his gut. He realizes that he’s jealous of Jim and his hold over Victor. In all the years he’s known the assassin, he has thought about Victor in other capacities other than hired enforcement. It wasn’t often, but there were times he and Zsasz just _—clicked_. But now, Oswald’s mistrust, jealousy and hatred has rendered their amicable working relations null.

 _It’s all his fault! Victor was perfect till Jim changed him._ _Oh, it would be a shame if he met a fatal end on the road. Then what will Zsasz do?_

Oswald giggles and watches as Jim turns left on the green arrow and disappears.

 

—>.:w:.<—

Sunday evening, Bruce, Alfred and Lucius make their way into the grand ballroom of The Plaza Hotel. They identify their reserved table at the evening’s fundraising event for the new children’s wing at Gotham General. Not only are they prepared to donate on behalf of Wayne Enterprises, but also for the real possibility of a heist given the well-moneyed patrons in attendance.

Bruce and Alfred spent weeks preparing for the gala, especially after recent events at another downtown charity auction. Lucius even developed some new tech for Bruce and Alfred upon his return to the employ of Wayne Enterprises.

As they work the room and mingle, they take note of hotel “staff” that are clearly _anything_ _but_. They look the part, but certainly don’t act it. Lucius identifies men he knows have connections to Penguin and others who enforce the Pax Penguina. By the time they begin heading for their seats, Lucius turns and recognizes a face that is certain to spell nothing but trouble:

 _Victor Zsasz_.

Bruce and Alfred notice Lucius’ changed expression and turn to glance at the notorious man. Three of his infamous henchwomen are with him. The men take note of everyone with whom Zsasz speaks, makes eye contact and signals. Lucius keeps a wary eye on the gunman who stands at the periphery of the event for a half hour. He even makes his way out into the foyer to mingle with other guests to get a better look at Zsasz’s contacts and men.

 

—>z<—

Victor enters the ballroom with Xochitl, Demaris and Ursula, while Tasha and Astrid stay out front. Given this event is the highest profile and largest money maker of the night, he has plenty of staff present to ensure a successful haul so Penguin gets his cut of the take.

About thirty minutes after they arrive, he receives a call from a contact at the docks.

“Yeah.”

“We gotta problem.”

“What’s up?”

“The port authority won’t release our cargo. They say our paperwork’s not in order. We gotta lot riding on that shipment.”

“On it. Gimme twenty.”

Victor informs his staff about the matter at the docks requiring his immediate attention. While the haul from the gala heist is a huge short term money-maker, it pales in comparison to the docks’ revenue stream given all the cargo that gets shipped in and out of it—be it black market goods, drugs, arms or _people_. In fact, according to Penguin’s records, a huge shipment is scheduled to come in Friday with every last one of those items. Zsasz needs to ensure everything is in order for tonight and future shipments.

—

Victor arrives at the docks with Astrid, Ursula and Xochitl. They recognize their guy still trying to negotiate with a port authority employee they don’t recognize. The uniformed man is clearly unfazed by the exasperated individual trying to explain his paperwork.

Victor and The Girls approach the spectacled man. Zsasz glances at his name badge.

“Is there a problem... _Mr_. _Cardinale?_ ”

“I’m sorry. You are?”

Victor moves in uncomfortably close, nods, crosses his arms and leans to one side.

“Oh. Let’s just say I’m a concerned taxpayer and a… (casually shrugging) _business_ associate. Where’s Petrović?”

The man soon finds himself surrounded by three intimidating women. He swallows nervously.

“I’m now responsible for his post. He uh… suffered a heart attack last night.”

Victor sighs and shakes his head.

“That’s too bad. It’s a _real_ shame when _bad_ things happen to _nice_ people, isn’t it? See, we’ve known Miloje for _years_. He even _showed us_ how to fill out our paperwork because....”

Victor leans into the man, narrowing his gaze and lowering his voice to a growl.

“...nobody wants any _problems,_  do they? How ‘bout _you show me_ how this paperwork is _incorrect_ , so we can... _fix it. Right_ , _ladies?_ ”

The port authority officer is now sweating. He nervously pushes his glasses up his nose and stutters. He points a shaky finger at the paperwork.

“Y-y-yes. If you look here, you can see that it lacks the proper…”

The mohwaked woman removes his wallet from his back pocket and thumbs through it while the pale, lithe brunette grabs his phone. The woman with his wallet elbows him.

“Yeah. Looks like _Joseph_ here is a _real_ stickler for details. He dots every ‘i’ and crosses every ‘t’.” She points out a picture for Zsasz’s benefit. “Look, here’s his wife, Joan and his daughter, Julie. She goes to that school in Midtown. What’s it called again? Oh, right.” She nods. “Ursuline Academy. Oh, hey! _Check out where they live!_ _Right_ down the street from that Lebanese place you love so much, Za'atar.”

Victor sighs wistfully and moans.

“Oooh, yeah! With that _amazing_ lamb pilaf!”

Victor wraps his arm around the increasingly terrified man and stretches a wolfish grin.

“So, Joe… Oh wait. Or do you prefer _‘Joseph’?_ ”

The man gulps.

“Joe’s fine. Either’s… uh… _fine_.”

“Yeah, so Joe. You ever take Joan and Julie there? You should if you haven’t. A good man _always_ shows his family he loves them, ‘cause ya never know when something _bad_ might happen. No one _ever_ thinks _bad_ _things_ will happen to _them_ , but _they_ _happen_... **_all_** _._ _the. time_. One day you’re here…”

Zsasz snaps his fingers, leans in and purrs.

“And the next, _you’re_ _gone_.”

The man swallows thickly and pushes up his glasses.

“You know, after taking another look at this paperwork, I think everything appears to be in order.”

Victor stretches a wide grin and nods.

“ _Thanks, Joe._ You’re so helpful. So, you’re replacing Miloje till he’s better, right? We’d _hate_ to have to deal with someone else after finding out what a _great guy_ you are. But it’s not like we can’t pay you and your lovely family a visit. Right, ladies?”

Astrid and Xochitl have already recorded his number and his family’s in their phones. Xochitl smiles and wiggles his phone at him before she slides it back into his pocket, as well as his wallet.

“Yeah. We can _always_ give you, Julie _and Joanie_ a ring. Maybe even pop by for a visit or something.”

The man nervously glances down at the assassin’s holster while Victor roughly pats his back like an old friend.

“You’re a good man, Joe. Be sure to give our love to Joan and Julie.”

Before Zsasz and The Girls return to the Impala, they pick up collections from their men working the docks and even speak briefly with a couple of licensees. One of them is waiting for a shipment of materials and supplies for his sweatshop. Victor approaches the man to confirms Penguin’s take will be ready Tuesday for pickup before returning to the fundraiser.

When they return to The Plaza, Tasha and Demaris rapidly approach, grave concern evident on their faces. Tasha’s the first one to talk.

“Victor. We have a problem.”

He blinks and screws up his face as Demaris continues, wide-eyed and still stunned.

“Okay, so right when the heist began, there was a loud bang and a flash. Then smoke...” Demaris glances at Tasha. “...but no smoke bombs. Then the lights went out. _All of them, Victor... for the entire first floor_. It was fucking chaos in there. You couldn’t see shit. There were shots fired, but no one got hurt. Anyway, we uh….”

Demaris looks nervously at Tasha, who grimly nods for her to continue.

“We _both_ got knocked out.”

Victor blinks in shock and looks to Tasha, who is clearly mortified by her failure. She puffs out a huge sigh and nods. Demaris continues.

“We don’t know how, but when all the lights came back on again, almost every licensee was disarmed, knocked out and _cuffed—_ without a single casualty. Even _our_ men were in flex cuffs. No one saw _anything_ , Victor. _Anyone_. Whatever group did it fucking _vanished_. There’s no trace of them _anywhere_.”

Tasha continues for her.

“We got _our_ men out. The press was already in there because of all the high-profile donors. They were talking to the Wayne kid when we left.”

Zsasz presses his eyes and mouth shut and soon hears the arrival of more GCPD units. He looks up, puffs out a huge sigh, heads back to the car and prepares to make a difficult call.

 

—>.:w:.<—

The press clambers around Bruce.

“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne!”

“Do you care to comment on what happened this evening?”

Bruce smooths down his mussed hair and clears his throat before soberly addressing the press.

“I’m deeply saddened that there are people who feel compelled to take money intended for Gotham’s critically ill children.”

“What can you tell us about what happened?”

Bruce presses his lips together and briefly looks down.

“Not much I’m afraid. I stepped away to… tend to a 'pressing matter' requiring my attention.”

“Was it regarding tonight’s fundraiser for Gotham General or Wayne Enterprises?”

Bruce immediately recalls Alfred’s advice.

_“There’s a time for masks and a time for Bruce Wayne.”_

The young billionaire sheepishly looks from side to side and offers a knowing smile.

“A gentleman never speaks of such matters.”

The press goes wild and clambers in closer. A society reporter shouts out.

“Mr. Wayne, is there anyone in your personal life, perhaps a _romantic interest_ you’d like to tell us about?”

Bruce wryly smiles and shakes his head.

“As I said, a gentleman never discusses such matters. However, given the unfortunate events of tonight’s fundraiser, Wayne Enterprises pledges to donate one hundred thousand dollars to help defray some of the lost donations and to support the construction of Gotham General’s new children’s wing. I encourage others who also have the means to support this worthy cause and help Gotham’s future.”

“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne!”

Bruce raises his hand and exits through the main entrance of The Plaza.

“I have no further comments. Thank you.”

He walks up to Alfred, who’s waiting for him by the Bentley. Once inside, Alfred informs him about the intel Lucius gathered.

“Master B, it seems Mr. Fox followed that Zsasz character to the docks. He saw him with some of Penguin’s known associates, one of whom is a suspected sweatshop operator. He followed the man. I believe the name’s Avendaño. He plans to meet us back at the manor with more information.”

—

Later that night and well into the into the next day, Bruce, Alfred and Lucius research Avendaño, his known associates and holdings. They carry out reconnaissance on the sweatshop including security, activity moving in and out, as well as building entry and exit points. They determine the number and location of the workers assembling counterfeit designer apparel and accessories. The men make plans to hit the location the following night. They even assemble go bags for the workers they plan to free. Each bag contains non-perishable food, a first aid kit, toiletries, two bus tickets to various cities far away from Gotham and a thousand dollars cash each.

During their surveillance, Fox recognizes an associate of Avendaño’s, Francisco Camacho. The man has a well-established history of arms dealings with various cartels and drug runners. They manage to attach a tracker to his vehicle and plan to make Camacho their next target after they hit Avendaño’s sweatshop.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I just f*cking lurve how my fanfic wife Deya writes HH and Jim. I’m not kidding. They crack me up and make me all f*cking giddy.
> 
> And although my lovely partner wifey, Linda, will never, ever read this fic, I gotta give her a shout out for helping me figure out how Bruce would address and handle the press. So thanks, babe! I love you! *waves excitedly even though she’s not looking* 
> 
> Oh, in case you forgot or didn’t read Boxcutter, and are wondering about the blonde Victor’s banging in his Impala from Jim’s nightmare, we introduced Boy Toy in chapter 5 of that fic.
> 
> }8> -o-  
> 
> 
> ______
> 
> Finally have some Bruce Wayne action! I love how technical Owl is with BW parts. I don’t have that sort of patience she does. I applaud her for steering Bruce Wayne, Alfred and Lucius for the fic. I am excited we are finally to this part of the fic because events are going to ramp up here quick. Like no joke. 
> 
> ~FC


	17. Swift Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim Gordon begins his vigilante spree against the Pax Penguina. Headhunter decides to test Zsasz’s loyalty. Meanwhile, Victor and his crew experience upset by a masked man.

—>z<—

Victor finds Monday without incident, especially after the surprising turn of events at the previous night’s gala. Demaris and Tasha are still smarting from it—especially Tash, who rarely experiences failure. He knows _exactly_ what she’s going through. Before his recent return to Penguin’s employ, he rarely did either—unless Jim was involved.

He recollects the time Jim managed to escape the GCPD motorpool—even after he and Tsunade _both_ put bullets in him. He chuckles as he thinks back to the time Jim punched his lights out after making that “kiss the bride for me” crack when Lee married Mario and remembers how he prepared to carry out Falcone’s hit after Jim killed Mario—going so far as to handpick the bullet.

_“308, 110 grain, hollow point bullet. Only the best for the warrior, James Gordon. No suffering. He dies quick.”_

That was his first brawl with Jim—who took out Maja and used Sofie for a human shield after his failed shot earlier. Victor knew the detective was tough but, before then, he had _no idea_ how much of a scrapper Jim _really_ was. Victor raises a brow, smiles to one side of his face and appreciatively shakes his head.

_So fucking sexy._

He soon scrunches his mouth to the other side of his face.

_That leather couch was a lot more comfortable than that kitchen floor._

He thinks back on tracking Jim and Harvey to Jim’s apartment—where Don Falcone ultimately called off the hit. It then occurs to him Penguin will _never_ call off a hit if Jim goes after him. Suddenly, his mood darkens. Victor wraps an arm around Tasha’s shoulder, his tone reflective.

“Hey. I get it. _Believe_ _me_. It happens.”

He leans in, nuzzles her neck and presses a reassuring kiss on it before rubbing her shoulder.

“C’mon. Let’s go have some fun.”

He nudges her—attempting to not only reassure her, but himself.

“It’ll make you feel better.”

Zsasz, The Girls and a dozen of his best men set out to rein in an underworld enterprise specializing in black market poached animal parts (bear gallbladders, big horned sheep antlers, tiger parts and other illegal wildlife trade).

The proprietor resented the hell out of an outsider like Penguin applying pressure, charging fees and making it difficult to obtain their smuggled goods from the docks. He threatened to turn to Asian gangs for protection.

That night, Zsasz and his crew squelch any and all thoughts of turning to outside sources for help. They also discourage any competition that might consider offering protection from Penguin.

 

—>j<—

 

Earlier that day, Jim submitted for sick days off. He told Harvey that he was going to take time to clear his mind and maybe go see his mother for a little bit. Jim even went as far as to hide his sedan in a garage. He left a light on in his kitchen and made sure the blinds were all tightly drawn.

Once the cloak of night settles over Gotham, Jim sets up a surveillance site not far from the license hub in the fish processing plant. Jim lucks out. The flow of traffic is one way only. He can easily choose targets as they leave the building and drive by his stakeout point. He watches the perimeter through a pair of Nikon binoculars; he’s situated in an alley a few buildings away. Jim spots the main entry point heavily guarded by enforcers.

He sees a client that catches his interest. The man is driving a Dodge Hellcat; Jim scrambles atop his motorcycle and waits for the car to pass.

_Easy to spot, possibly some money to be looted for Headhunter._

Jim lowers his goggles from his helmet to situate them over his eyes. Before Jim started his crusade, he swiped some gear from GCPD tactical unit. Ballistic Kevlar helmet he painted red and underneath he is wearing a red balaclava. Jim wanted to mimic the Red Hood detractor back when Oswald ran as mayor; Red Hood publicly opposed the kingpin with orchestrated attacks. Jim figured Oswald would appreciate the throwback.

He also obtained a Titan Tactical Assault Vest able to withstand .357 Magnum rifle, .44 Magnum rifle, .9mm, .357mm and .40 S&W FMJ rounds without the additional plating. It keeps his mobility optimal. He has an assault rifle strapped across his back with three thirty round magazines at his disposal. He also has his Colt equipped with silencer, several combat knives, two cans of mace, and a couple of stun grenades.

Jim follows the mark giving him a wide berth to avoid drawing suspicion. The man pulls into a lonely drive-thru to get some food, then makes his way to the north side of the city. Jim follows as he stops in an alley and gets out of his car. Jim runs up behind the man and taps his shoulder. The man is shorter than Jim and lighter weight. As soon as the man turns, Jim steps in close and immediately applies pressure to the man’s chin while grabbing the back of his head. In one clean twist and upper jerk, he breaks the man’s neck. Jim grabs the body under the arms and drags it behind the car. He looks through corpse’s pockets and finds the license.

_License for robbing a luxury car dealership? This would take some numbers to complete._

Jim hears the alley door open and a man call out.

“Hey Tony! Where you at?”

Jim removes his Colt and waits for the man to walk away from the doorway. He hears the door slam and footsteps heading towards the back of the car. Jim stands and delivers two shots to the chest, killing the man dead. Jim opens the trunk to the car and stuffs the small man inside. The other man, he drags behind the dumpsters and covers with garbage. He enters the building and hears several voices.

“Yeah, Tony is coming with the license. We hit tomorrow.”

“Oh man, it’s gonna be sweet. Penguin made it a free for all in Gotham!”

“There’s a sweet ass receptionist at the dealership. I might have to have her as part of the haul.”

The men laugh.

“We could all take turns with her. Hey gimmie another beer.”

Jim peeks around the corner and sees five men all drinking and playing cards. They appear to be drunk and completely distracted with their game. There’s a large stack of cash on the table along with a cache of weapons in the background. He grabs one of the stun grenades, pulls the pin and flings it at the gathering. He quickly takes cover behind the wall of the entryway.

—

_Headhunter holds up a M85 AK with an Uzi kit and smirks._

_“Comes with three, thirty round magazines. If you need more than three well then… You. Are. Thoroughly. Fucked. And not in a good way. I’m willing to let you have a go with this for starters along with the stun grenades.”_

_Jim begins loading the magazine with the 5.56mm rounds. He smirks as he looks up at Headhunter._

_“I think this will do for now.”_

_Headhunter walks around the table of weapons and behind Jim. He whispers in his ear._

_“Don’t forget our deal. Bring something nice home for daddy, or my dick is gonna be so far up your ass.”_

_—_

“Hey man, where the fuck is Jerry? I hate waiting for that asshole to take his turn.”

“He thought he heard Tony pull up.”

A bright flash and loud boom rocks the area. The men in the room all go flying from the table, dazed and struggling to ascertain the situation around them. Jim comes from around the next room and begins firing, taking all the men out in one round. He inspects the carnage and finishes off anyone still breathing. He stalks through the rest of the building and determines he has everyone. He spots a duffel bag and begins stashing all the cash on the table. He eyes the assault rifles but decides to let them remain.

He makes his way out of the building and stops to stare at the Hellcat. He digs out the keys from a pocket and throws the money in the passenger seat. He heads back inside to grab all the rifles. He dumps the man out of the trunk and rolls him alongside his dead buddy under the garbage bags. Jim does his best to hide him and hops on his bike stashing it a couple of buildings away.

Jim runs back to the Hellcat and finds a garage to store the car. Jim has a taxi drop him off a block from his bike and he continues his hunt. The rest of the night, Jim loots all the other targets and races back to the car to stash the cash. At the end, Jim brings back a Toyota Supra and a Nissan Skyline GTR R34. He parks them by the Hellcat.

Though Jim probably could have stopped more licensees that night, he needed to make sure he had Headhunter’s payment ready. Not to mention, he also has a few wounds to tend to. His face got sliced open in the last run, a grazed ear compliments of a bullet; he also got punched in his tender side where Victor kicked him. He was ready to call it a night and lug all the loot back to Headhunter’s pad.

_I need a faster and better way to coordinate drop offs. Half the damn night wasted trying to organize looting._

—

The next morning, early Tuesday, Headhunter wakes to find several bags on the coffee table and three sets of keys. He spots Jim in the kitchen eating. He chuckles and nods.

“Eventful night?”

Jim turns and points his spoon towards the stash.

“About one hundred grand and some change in the bags. Those keys are to three sports cars that I have stashed in a garage for now. I need a drop off point where I can park my bike to deliver loot. What do you have for me?”

Headhunter gapes at Jim taking in his bandaged face and ear. He then walks over to the bags. His eyes light up when he sees all the cash. He shakes his head and blurts out.

“Fuck! I wanna have your baby! You sexy bitch!”

Headhunter holds up one finger and exits to the main area. He returns after about five minutes later with keys and an address.

Headhunter holds out the items to Jim who’s at the kitchen island pouring another bowl of cereal.

“This is a chop shop garage that is run by close friends. I got them a license so Zsasz doesn’t harass them. They’re located downtown central. I’ll give them a call and let them know you’ll be using their shop as base of operations for vehicle swaps. They’ll provide you with a vehicle. So how many licenses were you able to collect?”

Jim walks over to the coffee table with his bowl and hands Headhunter a stack of ten licenses.

“Not bad.” Wendell does a double take at the bowl.  “Hey man… _are those my Coco Puffs?_ ”

Headhunter presses his lips tight and glares at Jim.

“I can get you more while I’m out tonight. I’m going to bed. Those cars are in a garage by the outlet mall on Broadway. Might want to send some men to claim them. See you tonight.”

Jim drinks the milk left in the bowl and sets it on the coffee table. He stretches and heads to bed.

Headhunter grimaces and hollers at the retreating man.

“Yo, I said you need to clean up after yourself! I don’t care how much money your bring me! Wash your dishes, you ingrate!”

Jim yells back.

“Okay, I will start tomorrow night. Leave the bowl. Night!”

Headhunter grabs the bowl and tosses it in the sink. He laughs and takes out his phone to send a text. He wants to test Victor and see if he can get some evidence to persuade Jim that his boyfriend is every bit the promiscuous player he knows Victor to be.

 _Then I’ll slide in and console the heartbroken man with some hot rebound fuck-a-palooza and keep Jim on as a side piece—_ **_a money making side piece_ ** _._

 

—>z<—

Late Tuesday morning, Zsasz finds The Girls encouraged after their success the prior night. Tash managed to take out three guys and Demaris took out two. Just as they’re preparing to head out for another busy day, he receives a text.

He puffs out a surprised snort when he discovers the source—especially after receiving a text from him mere days prior.

_"Yo Vic_

_I know a set of twins, blonde haired_

_and blue eyed surfer types. Wanna_

_go fuck’em with me? We can tag team._

_> :3 "_

Zsasz blinks, tilts his head and pictures two Jims on a beach in their obligatory detective garb. He immediately feels the heat flash behind his cock. Despite all his prior tag team sexcapades with his best friend, Wendell is conspicuously absent in this conjured fantasy. He grins as he fires off a response.  
  
_“short or long hair?”_

_"Long haired… large puppy dog_

_eyes...in their early twenties. Bodies_

_so fucking tight make you weep. So_

_you wanna?"_

Zsasz looks up to the side and pictures the younger Jims with longer hair. He promptly replaces their suits with swim trunks and imagines their sun-kissed, glistening bodies. Victor’s quiet moan reminds him he has yet to reply.

  
  
_“dude_

_sounds HOT but trying to get paid right now_

_keep distracting me & you’ll get me fired_

_then i'll have to come live with you”_

 

The Girls exchanges glances as they watch him furiously tap out a response.

“Wendell?”

Zsasz nods and chuckles.

“Yeah.”

Astrid bites her lower lip, swoons and fans herself. Xochitl rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“Astrid, you act like Wendy’s dick is made of gold. Besides, as much as you _love_ head, wouldn’t it be better if he could lick his eyebrows?”

The pale brunette bites her lower lip and bumps the latina’s hip with her own.

“Who says he can’t?”

The mohawked woman laughs and nods appreciatively.

“Nice! A man _fully in touch_ with his inner lesbian. _I like it!_ Hey Vic, tell him I wanna rematch.”

Zsasz nods as he reads Wendell’s reply.

_"Boo...you whore!_

_Hey, keep that little man happy. I_

_already have a flat mate...he’s hot_

_sweet piece of ass. ;) sorry no room_

_for you brutha.”_

Victor blinks and scrunches his face in disbelief and turns to The Girls.

“He’s gotta roommate. Sounds _hot_ too.”

Xochitl raises her shoulders, stifles a laugh and covers her mouth with a fist as she looks to the pale brunette. Astrid blinks and her eyes go wide, her reply panicked.

“W-WHAT?”

Zsasz immediately responds.  
  
_“YOU have a roomie?_

_i_ _need to meet this dude_

he the one with the twin?

_DUDE! where is the love?_

_remember when you crashed over here?_

_when you coming back by?_

_Xoch wants a rematch_

_& Astrid misses your dick_

_:D ”_

_“Nah. He’s a fighter. A bounty_

_hunter. Runs a little straight-_

_arrowed. I’ve known him awhile._

_He’s a wild card._

_Tell Astrid my dick misses her too._

_Ok gotta go to work. Peace brutha.”_

_“k_

  
_still bro_

  
_i'll tell her_

  
_later”_

 

—>j<—

_A thirteen year old Jim is getting out of his father’s car. He can see his dad talking to another man in the distance. Jim tosses the ball up in the air and catches it in his baseball mitt as he waits on his father to return. There’s inscription on the ball; he stops to read the words. He can’t seem to make out what it says._

_Jim smiles and shrugs then continues to toss the ball in the air. He hears someone crying in the car parked in front of his dad’s sedan. He looks back at his father who is still talking with another man. This dream is hazy and details indiscernible as he approaches the car. He sees a_ _kid_ _in the back seat crying, his features blurry. Jim extends his hand with the mitt through the back passenger window to give him the ball. The boy turns and looks at him; he says something that Jim has a hard time hearing or understanding._ _The only thing he’s fixated on are how large the boy’s eyes are._

_His father calls out. Jim turns to look but quickly returns his attention to the boy in the car. He notices the kid is gone and the offered ball is rolling in the backseat. The inscription flashes a few times as the ball rolls and comes to a stop._

Jim wakes from the dream feeling an odd familiarity. As soon as his eyes and mind clear, the feeling and the dream vanish from his mind.

His phone begins chiming; Jim reaches to retrieve it from the nightstand and sees Headhunter has sent a text message.

_"Yo_

_Miguel and Chuy know you’re_

_coming. Those keys I gave you_

_open the back garage to their building_

_they have a van there waiting for you to use_

_happy hunting_

_PS: Love the Supra :3 "_

Jim smirks and shoots him a reply.

 

_"Don’t get spoiled._

_I got lucky last night._

_The haul tonight might_

_not be as spectacular."_

 

Jim dresses and heads into the kitchen to find something to eat. He sees a bag from Gotham Grille on the island counter with a note.

 

_"Eat up sunshine_

_Throw your trash away once you’re done"_

 

Jim digs into the bag and finds a double cheeseburger and wings waiting for him. He perks up and quickly dives into the fridge, grabbing a mineral water. He sits and devours his burger. After a few bites, he digs into an inside pocket and pulls out Victor’s boxcutter.

He knows that what he is doing makes life difficult not only for Oswald but for Victor. He figures killing off the criminals before they engage in the licensed crime would ensure that he and Zsasz don’t cross paths.

Jim fingers the smooth metal of the handle and then extends the blade. Headhunter’s words still ring in his head about earning Victor’s animosity. He wonders if Victor would in fact harbor resentment for his lie about not opposing the Pax Penguina.

_I’m sure Victor knew I was lying; I was also betting on him not asking me. I could see it on his face right before we parted ways. He looked as though he was seeing me for the last time. There was dread..._

Jim sheaths the razor and deposits the boxcutter back into his jacket.

—

Later that night, Jim waits for the blacked out van to pass and get a couple of blocks before he follows. The van pulls up to a small warehouse in the south of Gotham. Three men and two women exit the vehicle. A thick and muscular female waits for everyone to get out and into the building before driving the van to the other side and parking it inside the warehouse.

Jim slinks in before the roll-up door closes. The woman kills the engine and opens her door; she remains in the seat to gather some belongings.

Jim’s eyes scan the immediate area. The space is empty save for the vehicle and a pile of packages off by the stairs that lead to the second floor of the warehouse.

He sees the woman busy collecting her firearm from the van. She backs out of the vehicle to give her shotgun berth. Once she turns, Jim shoots her in the head with his silencer-equipped Colt. Her body slumps up against the driver’s side door and slides down. Her shotgun falls to the floor just when he hears the door from top of the stairs open.

Jim ducks low at the driver’s side rear tire and waits. The person from the stairs is unable to see the driver’s side based on how the van is positioned. Jim’s hoping the person will come down to investigate, so he can dispatch him.

“Patricia! Hey! You in here?” Yo! Greg said to go ahead and load up the merch. We delivering tonight to Oscar and Billy. After you’re done, come to the room; we going over runners.”

Jim rolls up his balaclava and pitches his voice high as he hollers out.

“K!”

“Cool! Hey, we got pizza so hurry up! We waiting on you.”

Jim’s face scrunches in disbelief that it actually worked.

Once the door closes, he scurries to the stairs but stops and looks at the pile of brick-shaped packages.

Jim takes out a knife and stabs at the plastic wrapped black substance. His face hardens as he whispers.

“Heroin.”

Jim readies his M85 AK and opens the door a sliver. There’s a long way hallway and a light at the end, just beyond some double doors. As he nears, he hears laughter and talking. He pushes the M85 AK behind him and readies another weapon in case.

—

_Headhunter takes out a couple of large cases. He holds up something that grabs Jim’s attention._

_“M32A1 Multi-Shot Grenade Launcher. Can fire six grenades in three seconds or less. I have precisely six grenades for this bad boy. If you use this, please use it sparingly or your ass is gonna find me more 40mm munitions. Max range is 400 meters at low velocity. Pinpoint targets at 125 meters low velocity.”_

_Jim grins and says under his breath._

_“I think I just came.”_

—

Jim opens the double doors a hair and sees everyone at a large table eating pizza and drinking.

_Possibly four people at the table maybe more in the building somewhere._

Jim stands and kicks the doors open. He turns and fires his AK, tearing everyone at the table into bits. He inspects the bodies making sure they are all dead. Jim walks through the building. He comes to another open bay area where he hears two men rushing to get to a vehicle. Jim grabs the grenade launcher and pumps one grenade down into the bay. He backs up through the door and hears the munitions explode. He can hear screams as he comes back through the door; there’s one man with his legs blown off and the other dead behind the wheel. Jim finishes off the legless man.

Jim searches all the corpses and finds the license on a man in the meeting room. He also finds three duffel bags of cash and weed. Jim grins and takes the three bags with him.

Towards the end of the night, Jim has several bags of cash, weapons and two Rolex watches. He managed to collect twelve licenses that night. He also managed to get his shoulder sliced open by a large man wielding a machete. That man is currently lying at the bottom of his pool with his own machete deep in his gut. Other than some minor bruises from a couple of fists fights and sliced open knuckles, he feels he came away with less injuries than last time.

 

—>z<—

Zsasz and The Girls have a busy day collecting from a number of sizable hauls, terrorizing larger players without licenses and squelching more of Penguin’s challengers. It’s late in the evening when three of The Girls head back with Penguin’s haul. Urs and ‘Maris stick around to accompany him to the sweatshop.

They’re several blocks away when they notice a few panicked people running with bags. Zsasz, Urs and ‘Maris all exchange glances and begin driving faster. The closer they get to Ciro Avendaño’s warehouse, the more people they notice scurrying away. It isn’t until they’re a couple of blocks out that they realize the fleeing people are Ciro’s workers.

They speed up to the darkened warehouse and quickly exit the car with their weapons drawn. The place is usually busy during all hours of the night and day. As they move in, they find guards at the front entrance all disarmed, disoriented and bound. Demaris races up to one of them and promptly checks behind their backs. She calls Zsasz and Ursula over.

“These are the _exact_ same flex cuffs they used at the gala. Watch your asses.”

Victor stalks into the darkened warehouse, the only available light is from the street light filtering in through the opened door and one barely functional emergency light at the opposite end of the building. Ursula and Demaris follow behind him and begin fanning out on either side of the warehouse, checking beneath and around the felled tables and broken machinery barely visible in the ambient light. They find more bound men, abandoned weapons and scattered magazines on the floor.

Zsasz makes it about a quarter of the way into the warehouse when he hears Ursula’s stifled shout. He rapidly spins and points his Sig towards the direction of her cry, but it’s too dark for him to see anything. He soon hears her piece clatter to the floor, a sliding sound and a thud.

He rapidly closes in on the sound and begins firing off rounds. Before long, he hears rustling and Demaris calling out to him from the other side of the darkened warehouse.

_“Vic—!”_

Zsasz immediately twists and aims in the direction of Demaris’ silenced voice. As with Ursula, he hears a clattering weapon, another slump and thud. Victor maneuvers between two long rows of tables and begins firing rounds, expecting return fire, but receives none. He stops firing as he makes his way towards the side of the warehouse where he last heard Ursula, but it’s only growing more difficult to see. The area’s almost pitch-black.

Suddenly, one of his forearms is quickly wrenched forward while his other is rapidly rotated outward. Victor discharges his Sig as his assailant bangs his hand against a table until he takes his weapon. Before Zsasz realizes it, he receives a blow so powerful to his opposite shoulder, his attacker easily relieves him of his second Sig.

The darkness minimizes visibility, but Zsasz’s vision has begun adjusting to it. He can tell his opponent is directly in front of him and appears to be about Jim’s height based on the darkened profile.

Victor rears back to headbutt his opponent. However, before he can thrust his head forward, his attacker takes advantage of his exposed torso and assails him with numerous rapidfire blows about his chest and abdomen. The quick, unrelenting strikes force him back. He struggles to find his footing until the heel of his boot lands against the leg of a chair, halting his backward momentum.

Zsasz quickly finds his footing again, rears back his opposite leg up and kicks outward into nothingness. As he does, he unsheathes both his karambit and combat knife. He makes his way forward, lunging and swiping repeatedly towards his assailant with both hands, but fails to make contact. Before he realizes it, his attacker captures both his wrists and he’s soon staggering backwards from a headbutt right above his brow ridge. As he falls, he looks up at his attacker’s silhouette before the back of his head slams against the warehouse floor.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear the man flew up to the ceiling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just gonna sit here and touch myself as I imagine a three-way with twin Jim Gordons, ‘cause it’s a h3lluva lot better than thinking about how badly I got my &ss kicked in that warehouse. Ugh. My phuccing head hurts! }8> -o-  
> 
> 
> ______
> 
> When Owl and I wrote the text messages between Victor and Wendell, I sent actual messages to Jess via text. I told her. HH is gonna mess with you/zsasz! =) She didn’t know when or what I was going to message her. I had a blast!
> 
> Jim going hog wild and killing “bad guys” was fun for me too write. I love no holds barred. 
> 
> ~FC


	18. Battle Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zsasz delivers upsetting news to Oswald about another of his investments dismantled by a masked man. Headhunter sends Victor a gift while Jim decides to lay low for one night and meet up with Harvey.

—>j<—

Early Wednesday morning, Jim hauls all the bags into Headhunter’s apartment after dropping off the weapons into the main area where two of Headhunter’s men quickly run them down to the basement cache room.

Jim sits on the floor of the living room as he tends to the deep gash on his right shoulder as best he can. He hears Headhunter wake and head into the living room.

Jim assures him very quickly.

“I made sure to clean my blood off your floor.”

Headhunter rushes over and finds Jim struggling to keep pressure on his deep gash.

“Shit, man! That looks deep. I’ll be right back. I have a first aid kit.”

The bounty hunter returns with a white medical kit that he places on the floor behind Jim.

“I’m pretty good at stitches; let me sew your ass back up. Need some liquor or beer to curb the edge?”

Jim nods.

The dark man zips into his kitchen and grabs a bottle of tequila. He shakes the bottle in front of the wounded detective.

Jim snatches it out of Wendell’s hand and quickly removes the cap. He whips the bottle up to his mouth and commences to guzzle the amber spirit.

Wendell joins Jim on the floor, slotting himself behind the wounded man. He smirks.

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

Jim shakes his head and blurts out.

“Huh? Uh… strawberr—GAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Headhunter pours alcohol on the wound. He busts out laughing when he sees Jim chugging a long draw from the tequila bottle. He begins singing as he preps the needle.

“You scream… I scream… we all scream for…  _tequila!_ ”

Jim gruffs out a chortle and hangs his head, waiting for the sting of needle.

Headhunter closes Jim’s wound with four stitches then applies a clean bandage over the top.

“All patched up and good to go.”

Jim shuffles around and faces his host. He nods towards the pile of bags.

“Two hundred grand and one duffel bag full of weed. I also brought weapons. I’m sorry; I used two of your grenades.”

Headhunter smirks as he stows his sterilized needle and scissors back into the kit. He shrugs and gives Jim a look. He reaches out and caresses Jim’s face, then takes his chin in his hand.

Jim blinks, dumbstruck by the gesture.

Headhunter swiftly leans in and plants a soft kiss on Jim’s lips. His hand quickly releases Jim’s chin as he pulls back.

Jim casts his eyes downward and turns his head away as he states.

“I will just assume it was a ‘thank you’ kiss.”

Headhunter chuckles at Jim’s discomfort then inhales a deep breath.

“Say man, why don’t you take a break from hunting tomorrow? Besides, word on the street is you ain’t the only one taking steps to stop Oswald. Let this other vigilante take on the brunt of the work.”

Jim’s face deadpans as he returns his gaze to Headhunter’s.

“There’s someone else out there?”

“Yeah, only this dude isn’t killing but restraining the criminals. Hell, he even knocked out a couple of Zsasz’s girls. If you’re gonna keep doing what you do, be careful. This man is putting the heat on Penguin. No telling how beefed up security at the license distribution point may become.”

Jim nods.

Headhunter stands and looks down at Jim, examining him for a moment.

“Take the day off, Swift. Go get a strawberry ice cream cone; loosen up. Throttle back a little. So… how many _did_ you get last night?”

“I think twelve.”

Headhunter laughs as he heads to the kitchen. He takes out some coffee grounds and a measuring spoon. He mentions with a hint of amusement.

“You should mail all the licenses you have to Penguin. I bet it would really ruffle his petticoat.”

Jim shakes his head and chuckles.

“I think I will and then go get some ice cream after.”

“That’s the spirit! Keep them guessing. Now get your ass in here and wash your _damn_ dishes then let’s smoke some weed.”

Jim strides over the kitchen and laughs as he runs the water. He stops and turns his head towards Headhunter and says with some apprehension.

“Say, HH… might want to go easy on the weed. I found it off heroin dealers; could be laced.”

Headhunter measures out espresso grounds and quips.

“Then to the incinerator it goes. I love my alcohol and I love my weed. I don’t like them laced with anything. I have my own stash; we can still mellow out.”

—

A couple of hours later, Headhunter’s on the couch and Jim’s passed out on the floor. Headhunter takes out his phone and calls one of his men to his apartment. A heavy set man, about five foot six inches and over two hundred and eighty pounds, shuffles into the living room.

“Boss.”

Headhunter holds out an envelope stuffed with licenses addressed to The Iceberg Lounge. He points to a small package on the coffee table addressed to Victor Zsasz.

“Yo, Little B! I have a couple of errands for you to run. Do we still have a tracker?”

The rotund man scrunches his plump facial features and finally nods.

“Yup, Andre said he only needed one; the other is still in the cache. Need me to plant it somewhere?”

Little B takes the items, but double takes on Jim who’s spread eagle on the floor and snoring up a storm. He chuckles and raises an eyebrow at Headhunter.

“Yo, dat white boy _okay?_ ”

Headhunter nods and smiles.

“Is he ever. Make sure that package gets to Zsasz today and, if you are able, find a way to plant that tracker on that Impala of his. He tends to park it in a garage across from their building, usually top level. Then put that envelope into the mailbox.”

Little B sucks his teeth and purses his lips.

“Man, I _hate_ those women! They always make fun of my weight. Why do they gotta be such _bitches?_ ”

Headhunter nods and adds.

“You’ve lost weight since last they saw you. Maybe they won’t harass you this time around.”

Little B ambles out of the apartment and says.

“I’ll get the box to Zsasz in the next hour and mail this out. I’ll call when I get the tracker on that car of his.”

Headhunter nods. He opens his phone and types out a text to Zsasz.

_“Hey got you a little_

_something in case you_

_get lost out there.”_

  
Headhunter laughs and shakes his head.

_This motherfucker about to get all sorts of confused._

Headhunter responds to Victor’s text messages for a bit. He places his phone on the coffee table and looks down at Jim who’s rolled over onto his belly.

“Sleep well, my man.”

Headhunter heads to his room to get dressed. He decides to make his rounds with his men at their security details.

 

—>z<—

A text wakes Victor Wednesday morning. He groans from the effects of the prior night’s fight as he rises. His pecs, abs and obliques are still tender. He supports himself up on a elbow to rub the lump on the back of his head. Zsasz’s deltoid and pec minor muscles ache from the powerful blow he took to the very stiff (now purple) shoulder supporting him.

As he rubs the back of his head, he looks down at the numerous bruises that have begun appearing all over his chest. He sighs and rubs his aching forehead above his brow ridge, where he has another lump.

He groans and reaches for the phone as a second text drops. When he sets to read it, he notices the bruising on his forearm and puffs out an annoyed sigh. Fortunately, after last night, today’s schedule was light. _Unfortunately_ , however, he has to face Penguin and give him the details on what happened last night and likely, Sunday.

Friday’s shipment is now more critical than ever. He sent more of his men to the docks to ensure they secure the linchpin to Penguin’s future revenue. He plans to check on them later.

He flips open his phone and discovers the text is from Wendell.

_“Hey got you a little_

_something in case you_

_get lost out there”_

Victor scrunches up his face and blinks in confusion before rubbing his forehead again. He taps out a reply.

_“?_

_k_

_you sending it with B?”_

_“Yup._

_He on his way.”_

 

_“k_

_i’ll tell the girls_

_thx man”_

 

_(three laughing emojis with tears)_

_“Hey no_

_problem._

_Peace!”_

Victor’s eyes narrow at the laughing faces.

_Oh shit._

He taps out a quick reply.

_“dude_

_don’t dick me around_

_wtf are you sending?”_

 

Zsasz can’t help but stare at his phone even though he knows he won’t receive a reply. He shakes his head and puffs out a mirthless chuckle, wondering what he’s going to get. Had he not gotten his ass handed to him the night prior, he’d be a lot more excited by the prospect of finding out.

_With Wendy? No tellin’._

He sprawls back onto his bed and thinks back on last night’s events, still stunned. Based on what ‘Maris and Tash said about the gala event, he expected to face multiple aggressors but, as far as he could tell, there was only one. Victor refuses to accept the fact one man could single-handedly disarm and bind a dozen men, wreck that much equipment and free dozens of people without being seen.

Whoever orchestrated it was _damn_ good, but had to have help. Still, just like The Girls said, the guy _was_ like a phantom. _A ghost_. He tries hard to remember every detail he can. Aside from the noise The Girls made, he heard nothing. The man was completely silent—even when he fought.

Victor spent most of his restless night entertaining the possibility it could be Jim endeavoring to combat Penguin, mulling over his unwillingness to discuss what he _had_ to do before returning to be with him. Freeing Avendaño’s workers also aligned with Jim’s interminable drive to save people.

The vigilante is about Jim’s height, but Zsasz _knows_ it isn’t Jim, having personally experienced his fighting style. This man is nimbler and lightning fast. The vigilante knows how to box and has obvious martial arts training. Jim’s _damn_ good, but he’s more of a brawler. Zsasz has never faced an opponent like this one.

Victor still acquired Penguin’s cut from Avendaño, but had to report the incident since Ciro’s workers were now all in the wind and the man no longer has laborers to assemble his counterfeits, drying up another one of Cobblepot’s regular revenue streams. He hates the thought of having to face Penguin and report _another_ problem he was unable to stop.

Zsasz hits the head before shuffling to the kitchen for tea and grub. He doesn’t bother with any clothes. On his way, he checks on Demaris—who’s in bed on her side, wide awake and clearly _still_ bothered about last night. Ursula is bed with her, out like a light. He walks over to ‘Maris, strokes her soft curls and leans down to kiss her forehead.

“You okay?”

She purses her mouth and pouts a little.

“No.”

She looks at the abraded bump on his forehead and his extensive bruising. Her face pinches with concern. He kisses her head again and shrugs before heading to the kitchen.

“Occupational hazard.”

Tasha grimaces and shakes her head when he enters the kitchen. Xochitl walks in behind him and theatrically covers her face.

“Vic! Clothes!”

He turns to face his resident wisecracker. She scrunches her face and cringes as she takes in all the bruising on his chest, shoulder and forearm.

“Shit, Vic. Wow.”

He snorts out a long sigh.

“Oh hey. Wendy’s sending somethin’ over with B. Maybe in an hour or so?”

“Cool! What is it?”

He shrugs.

“Fuck if I know. Guess we’re gonna find out.”

—

About an hour later, Xoch briefly knocks and walks into Demaris’ quarters. Tasha and Astrid file in behind her as she talks about the package’s courier.

“Yeah, ’Lil B’s bringin’ back the sexy. He’s lost some weight, you guys.”

Victor’s in bed between Ursula and Demaris. Word’s gotten out about the package, so everyone’s curious about it. Xochitl wiggles the box at Astrid before handing it to him.

“Whatever it is, it definitely _isn’t_ Wendy’s golden dick. It’s not heavy enough and, judging by the way Astrid talks, apparently not _big_ enough.”

Her crack earns her a punch to the shoulder. Everyone gathers on the bed as Victor sits up to take the small and surprisingly light package. He opens it and finds a large black leather leash. Confused, he scrunches his face to one side and tilts his head. He looks down and reaches for the second item. It’s a spiked, black leather bondage collar with a large, red, heart-shaped tag with “Zsasz” engraved on it.

As everyone exchanges glances and stifles a chortle, Victor turns the tag over:

_If found, call Swift Hand._

He looks to The Girls, perplexed.

“Who the fuck is Swift Hand?”

They all exchange glances and cluelessly shrug. Zsasz falls back into bed. He rubs both hands down his face before folding them behind his head. He puffs out a huge sigh, looking upward in thought. Xochitl turns to Tasha, holds up five fingers and begins mouthing her countdown: _four, three, two, one_ ….

Victor immediately shoots back up and grabs his phone.

_“dude!_

_who the fuck is Swift Hand?”_

 

“ _Maybe one day you’ll_

_be privileged enough_

_to know._

 

_;) ”_

The Girls look at him expectantly. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“He’s not sayin’.”

Zsasz taps out his response.

_“whatever dude”_

 

_“Aww don’t be_

_so dismissive my_

_man. You’ll see one_

_day. Mean time, stay_

_frosty.”_

 

Zsasz shrugs and resigns himself to the fact he’ll find out eventually. He puffs out a defeated sigh before texting back.

_“k man_

_you too"_

_—_

As the morning progresses, he receives troubling news from his men monitoring license compliance and payment. A number of licensees have failed to show for their pre-arranged delivery times. Only a handful of licensees register any addresses. Most arrange for drop locations away from their business operations and hideouts, so there is little they can do about the no shows.

Later that evening, Victor reports to the Iceberg Lounge.

 

—>  <—

Oswald is in his office going over the license books with Mr. Penn as per the weekly routine.

“Unexpected loss of revenue this week even when the numbers were predicted to be exceptional. We have to eat the cost of Ciro’s workers being set free. If the gala event had been successful, you would at least netted even. These two large upsets coupled with other minor issues… here.”

Mr. Penn digs out copies of licenses he set aside in a binder and spreads them across Oswald’s desk.

“These licenses were taken out, but the collections were never documented. I was told by Victor Zsasz’s men that these people never showed at the drop off locations. It has been confirmed that these people never attempted to go through with the actions for which the licenses were issued.”

Oswald nods.

“Okay, leave the books. I’ll have them delivered to you tomorrow. You are dismissed.”

Mr. Penn gathers his belongings and excuses himself just as Zsasz is walking through the doors. Oswald’s eyes glare at his enforcer as he approaches the desk.

”Boss.”

Oswald folds his hands over his desk and gives Victor a tight lipped grimace, his nostrils flaring as his breaths puff out heavily. He’s trying his best to wrangle in the slew of obscenities that want to fly out of his mouth.

“Victor, why don’t you go ahead and explain to me why I’m upset right now?”

Zsasz presses his lips together and looks down before returning Penguin’s gaze. He clenches his teeth because he hates admitting his failure. He also knows what’s coming.

“'Cause of what happened at Sunday’s gala. You didn’t get your take and someone shut down Avendaño’s shop.”

Oswald nods incessantly as his eyes close. He licks his lips and throws both hands in the air. He returns his glare to his enforcer then shoves the copies of the no-show licenses on the desk closer to Zsasz.

“Yes, _all that_ and _these!_ Can you tell me what these are?”

Victor walks up the desk and thumbs through the licenses.

“They’re the licensees who didn’t show at their drop sites to deliver your cut. They don’t have addresses for us to follow-up on. I checked.”

Oswald looks up and finally registers that Victor is all banged up. He raises an eyebrow and swivels his head as he snarks.

“I take it those bumps on your head aren’t victory scars. What exactly happened at the gala and how did those workers get set free?”

Victor briefly touches the bump on his forehead before looking up and puffing out a big sigh.

“I had plenty of men at the gala. It was your biggest money maker that night. I even showed up with The Girls. Before it got started, I got news the port authority wouldn’t release some of your larger licensees’ cargo. Me and two of The Girls got the new port authority guy with the program to make sure we didn’t have problems with Friday’s shipments.”

He continues.

“When we got back to the gala, somebody, some people?” He shrugs. “I dunno. They uh… stopped the heist. Whoever did it cuffed the licensees and some of our men. They even knocked out two of The Girls. It’s not real clear what happened. The… sweatshop? Well....”

Oswald taps his fingers as he waits for Victor to get on with the reason things failed.

“I am aware of what brings me the most money. What I want to know is how a team of highly skilled and trained people got bested when they should have been on full alert! How many _attackers_ are we talking about? How many were there to clobber you over the head and smack down your girls? I want to know if I have cause to be concerned! I want to know if this is another organized hit against me by rival gangs!”

Zsasz rubs his lips.

“At the gala? That’s unclear. But eight licensees, four of my guys and my Girls didn’t see _anyone._   _Anywhere_. There was a flash of light, smoke and all the lights went out in the hotel. Not even the guests saw anything.”

Oswald closes his eyes and shakes his head back and forth then opens his eyes and glares at Zsasz.

“What?!”

Oswald throws his hands up and gives Victor an incredulous look.

“I find that hard to believe! How can the attackers just vanish?! That’s nonsense! So we covered the gala event; how did Ciro’s workers get set free?”

Victor rubs the top of his head in frustration because that’s not clear either. He quietly grunts from the lump on the back of his head.

“When me and The Girls went to pick up Ciro’s take, his workers were already gone. By the time we got there, about a dozen of his men were in flex cuffs. Some were still knocked out. We asked everyone. They didn’t know either. They said the lights went out and they were attacked—just like the gala. Then the attacker… _attackers…?_ They let the workers go and messed up the machinery. That’s all I know. What Ciro and his men told us. Well, uh, and the little I could see when he… they… he? Uh…”  Zsasz looks down briefly. “When he got my Girls…" He clears his throat. "...and me? I couldn’t see him either, Boss.”

Oswald blinks at Zsasz finding all that he said about disappearing attackers a little too ridiculous to swallow.

“Well, Zsasz, I find this all highly unbelievable. For not only once, _but twice_ , the attackers vanished and were never seen by anyone before, during, or after the attack. Do not let anymore of my interests fall prey to these people. Do you understand me?”

Victor nods and waits for Penguin’s inevitable tirade. His brow crinkles incredulously when none comes. He responds in disbelief.

“Yes, sir.”

Oswald waves him away as he picks up a phone.

Zsasz blinks in disbelief when he’s dismissed, briefly hesitating before quickly striding out the door.

Freeze grins when Zsasz exits Oswald’s office and runs into him. Freeze bumps the enforcer against the door and leans in.

 

 

“Heard about another of your _spectacular_ failures.”

Fries looks over the assassin’s bruised head and smirks. He brings his right hand up and removes a glove. He wiggles his fingers and purrs.

 

 

“Want me to ice that for you?”

Zsasz’s facial muscles retract and his jaw clenches at the smug man’s taunting. He rubs his mouth and narrows his gaze. His fingers itch for his Sigs, but he stops himself. He keeps walking, fearing what he might do if he sticks around a second longer.

Freeze aims his freeze gun at the stairs that lead down to the main floor; he fires, rendering the only exit slick and icy. He monotones.

“Hey. It’s rude to walk away when I’m just trying to be nice.”

Victor glares back at Fries and growls through clenched teeth.

“I’m just trying to be nice, too.”

Freeze smirks; he walks over to the stairs and raises an eyebrow.

“That’s gonna hurt slipping down. Well, considering you’re already banged up, you can say the bruises and bumps inflicted are from the invisible attacker that _keeps_ kicking your ass.”

Fries chuckles as he heads to Oswald’s office.

Zsasz unholsters a Sig, aims it directly at the back of Fries’ fucking head and releases the safety.

Fries pauses; opening the door to Oswald’s office. He smirks at the assassin and taps a button his utility belt; the ice melts instantly.

Oswald glances at the door while he converses on the phone. He immediately drops the receiver and whips out of his chair when he sees Zsasz with a gun out. He screeches.

“ _Zsasz!_ ”

Fries chuckles and remarks.

“Relax, just us _Victors_ having a bit of fun, Oswald.”

Freeze winks at Zsasz as he slowly closes the door, keeping a silvery orb on the infuriated man.

Zsasz keeps his Sig pointed at Fries’ fucking face until the door closes, giving serious consideration to killing _both_ men. He reholsters his GSR and proceeds down the wet stairs, bruxing his teeth.

 

—>j<—

Jim slowly stirs from sleep, his eyes still closed. He believes for a couple of seconds he is back in his bedroom in his own apartment. He swears he can smell Victor: warm... spicy… woodsy. Jim smiles and opens his eyes, the pleasant memory gone as his brow furrows. He eyes scan the floor he’s curled up on. He sees a soft light coming from the hallway that illuminates the way to the bedrooms.

He groans as he sits up, his freshly sewn wound throbs and complains with his exertion. He heads to his room and checks his phone. He has a message from Headhunter and one from Harvey.

Headhunter:

_“Yo Swift_

_It’s a good thing I_

_care about you._

_Security at the docks_

_just skyrocketed.”_

 

Harvey:

_“Jimbo, call me.”_

 

Jim sends a text back to Headhunter first.

 

_“HH, thanks for the heads up._

_I won’t be out that way tonight_

_I saw you had an RPG launcher._

_Have ammo?”_

 

_“what the fuck_

_you about to_

_blow to kingdom_

_come?_

_I have two munitions”_

 

_“Nothing tonight._

_I’m gonna go visit Harvey._

_Later.”_

 

Jim calls Harvey.

“Jimbo! Hey man, get this shit! We got some vigilante nut job is givin’ Penguin a run for his money. Stopped some high profile heists. Is it you?”

Jim laughs and retorts.

“Seriously? Glad someone is giving it to Oswald. Hey, I’m back in town. Want to get a beer?”

Harvey throws his microwave dinner away and runs to his room.

“Fuck yeah, meet me at Bernardo’s!”

“Give me about thirty to forty minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Okay Jimbo, see you in a bit.”

Jim dresses and makes his way to towards the docks to see for himself how bad security has gotten. He watches from the Gotham Bay bridge with his Nikon binoculars.

_Lots of cars parked on the one way outlet of the hub and checks before anyone is allowed within a block of the plant. I can probably get as close as five hundred meters from the building. Should be close enough._

Jim gets back on his bike and races back into town. He strolls through the door of Bernardo’s within thirty minutes.

“Harv!”

Jim stops and looks Harvey over, a huge uneasy smile creeps on his face.

Harvey scoffs and throws up his left hand pointing to his face as he grumbles.

“Yeah, I know! Even though I look worse with the old bruisin’, I’m beginnin’ to feel a lot better.”

Jim wraps an arm over Harvey’s shoulder and sits close. He plants a big kiss on the old man’s forehead. Harvey smirks and says.

“I missed those lips. Here, got you a beer.”

Harvey’s slides a bottle over.

“Thanks!”

Jim’s phone rings. He digs it out but doesn’t recognize the number.

“Hold on, let me take this.”

Harvey nods. Jim answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“Jim, my handsome detective!”

“Gabrielle!”

_Damn, I need to talk to him about me and Victor getting back together._

Jim glances at Harvey. He then changes his mind to have _that_ discussion another time.

Harvey raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“Jim, I miss you. How are you?”

“Great. Well to be honest, I was a bit lonely after you left.”

Gabrielle makes a sad sound and pouts as he speaks.

“I wish you had came with me. Positano is beautiful this time of year. Would be better if you were here.”

Jim smiles.

“Take pictures, I would love to see it.”

Gabrielle chuckles and taunts.

“I have. I’m sure you will get them soon. I also sent you a few naked pics of me.”

Jim raises both eyebrows and smirks. He turns to Harvey who is watching him with a goofy smile.

“Oh? Well, thanks. I will look those over thoroughly at my leisure.”

Gabrielle laughs and says apologetically.

I cannot talk long. Family is waiting for me. I want to call you sometime this coming weekend.”

“Okay, no worries. I’m at the bar with Harvey right now anyway. Take care Gabe; talk to you this weekend.”

“Goodbye my handsome detective.”

Harvey smirks and says.

“So are you two still kinda a thing or not?”

Jim shrugs as he goes through his messages and sees the pics drop in from Gabrielle.

“We are just really friendly friends… ummm _wow._ ”

Harvey looks over his shoulder and sees a naked pic of Gabrielle on the bed. He quickly turns away.

“Aw come on!”

Jim busts out laughing.

“Serves you right for looking over. _Oh_... him in a hot tub… _naked_. Wanna look?”

Harvey shakes his head.

“Look, the dude is hot, but I don’t need to see his _Willy_.”

Jim’s winks as he drinks his beer all down in one long draw. He slams the empty bottle down on the bar and bumps his shoulder to Harvey’s. He chuckles as he asks.

“How come you never send me nudes, Harv?”

Harvey chuckles and quips.

“You can get one of me in the head if you want. Be right back; the seal is broken.”

 

—>.:w:.<—

After successfully shutting down Avendaño’s sweatshop the previous night, Bruce, Alfred and Lucius turn their attention to arms dealer, Francisco Camacho.

During their surveillance, they overhear Camacho’s men talk about another group of undocumented workers being smuggled into Gotham through the docks. They’ll come by way of a cargo vessel scheduled to arrive Thursday evening around eleven, not long after Camacho’s arms sale.

With no time to spare, Lucius reaches out to an Immigration and Customs Enforcement contact he made while working for the GPCD. He assisted Agent Chizoma Onwudiwe when the GCPD vice unit targeted a suspected prostitution ring and happened upon some trafficked young women and girls.

Lucius successfully identified the source of trace evidence and residue found on the clothing of some of the trafficking victims. Their combined efforts were critical in saving dozens of victims just as they were about to be shipped out to various buyers.

He makes a phone call during the wee hours of the morning and hears a groggy woman’s voice.

“Lucius Fox? What in the world?”

“Agent Onwundiwe?”

“Lucius, it’s… _almost two in the morning_. How ‘bout we skip the formalities? _Zo_. Please.”

“Of course. Zo, as much as it pains me to call you at this late hour, I’ve just obtained some information you really need to hear. There isn’t much time and lives are at stake.”

—

During the day, Bruce, Alfred and Lucius learn Camacho has plans to make a weapons sale Thursday night. The location of the buy is in an old manufacturing building in Gotham’s warehouse district.

The three men surveil the building and surrounding area to determine security vulnerabilities. They ascertain how far a perimeter Camacho’s men keep and determine the location of weapons in the building. Lucius obtains tech from Wayne Enterprises Research and Development department, that includes stun guns and modified net launchers that deploy multiple large nets that emit an electrical current strong enough to capture and incapacitate their opposition, without causing serious injury.

 

—>j<—

Thursday evening around eight, Headhunter and Jim are on a rooftop about six hundred meters from the large license hub. Jim is preparing the launcher while his cohort is sitting in a folding chair with binoculars and a beer.

“Are you sure Zsasz isn’t in there?”

 

 

Jim casts Headhunter a worried look. The bounty hunter sets the binoculars down and takes out his phone. He dials out.

“Yo Jayden, how’s that tracker? Yeah… uh huh. Shit man, it’s about to be the Fourth of July at the docks! Yo, have the men look this way; Swift fixing to set things off! Yeah… warehouse district. Great, thanks man.”

Headhunter points to the hub and beams Jim a big smile.

 

 

“Your boyfriend is at the warehouse district. I had Little B slap a tracker on that Impala of his. So, fire away my man. Use both; let’s level that fucker into nothing.”

Jim beams him a large smile and looks into the scope.

“Bye-bye.”

Jim digs in his feet and leans in just a bit. He fires, the backlash predictable and not all too unfamiliar to Jim, considering he’s used them before in the military.

Headhunter watches with the binoculars and howls with glee.

“Oh _please_ , get them flimsy windows… _Boo yah!_ ”

A couple of seconds pass before the building erupts into explosive rubble. Jim quickly readies the next munition and fires again. This time, the grenade enters as the building starts to buckle on itself. The building explodes once more and crumples in ruins.

Jim sees a large van slow down by their building; he pulls his balaclava over his head. He grabs the M85 AK and starts firing down on the van; three men come out and return fire.

Headhunter grabs his Sigs and joins Jim at the edge of the roof.

Jim throws down a stun grenade. Headhunter shoots one in the head and fires multiple rounds into another. The final man shouts out.

“Shit!! Anthony!”

The last man fires at Jim as he tries to get back into the van to get away.

Jim sees that the fire escape landing isn’t too far. He jumps over the edge and lands on the metal platform. He fires again but the man is already is inside the van. Jim scales down to ground level as the van peels away. Jim fires all his rounds at the fleeing van. Headhunter joins him below.

Headhunter nudges Jim to start heading back to their motorcycles.

“Let’s get the hell out of here before we’re outnumbered.”

Jim quickly makes his way to where their rides are stashed. He hollers.

“Once we’re over the bridge, let’s split up in case we’re followed.”

Headhunter nods.

The two men race their way back over Gotham Bay bridge and into the city.

 

—>  <—

_8:30 Thursday evening:_

Oswald is in his office at the lounge when he receives word of the large license hub along with Mr. Penn and all the log books are blown to smithereens; not to mention, ten of his men are dead since Zsasz has his own people watching over heists and shipments.

Mr. Freeze comes storming into his office.

“Oswald!”

The small kingpin is already worked into a fit of rage. He screeches at the top of his lungs.

“I want everyone on this vigilante! Now! I just learned our large license headquarters was hit by bombs! Mr. Penn and my logs are _all gone!_ ”

Freeze clenches his jaw tight and shows Oswald what came in the mail.

“Oswald, we just got sent this. Over twenty licenses, these are the no-shows. Some are covered in blood.”

Freeze shakes them out on the desk. Oswald gapes in shock. He quickly digs into his jacket to retrieve his phone. He’s about to dial out to Zsasz when a couple of guards escort a wounded man to his office.

Oswald huffs out angrily.

“Well!? What is it?! Who is this!?

The man falls to his knees and stammers out.

“I tried stopping the man that took out the license building. I couldn't get him. He was well armed! He killed my brothers!”

Oswald approaches the man with his hands balled into fists. He grabs his cane from beside his desk and pokes the wounded man on his chest. Oswald screeches.

“What did this man look like!?”

The man trembles and quickly answers.

“H… He had his head covered in a mask or something. It was red. He also wore a black leather jacket with red stripes. There was a motorcycle in the alley… red.”

Oswald staggers back and runs a hand down his mouth. He turns around and braces himself on his desk.

Freeze comes in close and whispers.

“Oswald? Do you know who this man is speaking of?”

Oswald nods. He waves the guards to remove themselves and the man. Once they are alone, Oswald growls.

“ _Jim Gordon!_ I’ve seen him on a bright red motorcycle and wearing the same jacket that man described. Get Bridgit and Ivy in here.”

Freeze nods and leaves to find the girls in the lounge.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there any wonder why I’m so phuccin’ crazy for Jim Gordon. His bad-&ssery fills me with heart eye emojis.
> 
> However, I really phuccin’ hate gettin’ my &ss handed to me. Seriously though: “Who the f*ck is Swift Hand?”
> 
> _In all seriousness though, even I gotta kick outta HH givin’ Zsasz sh!t about Swift Hand. In fact, I got such a kick out of it, I was the one who thought it’d be funny as sh!t if HH sent Victor that bondage collar with the tag, ‘cause... well... let's face it, y’all: that’s some funny sh!t!_
> 
> }8 > -o-  
> 
> 
> ______
> 
> I LOVED messing with Zsasz/Jess during these vigilante chapters. Her idea about the collar tickled me pink and it is used towards the end for some tension relief and levity. If you stick around you will see. 
> 
> We are getting close to the super juicy chapters here. Jimbo struck a major hit to Penguin’s empire and not to mention Baby Batman dismantling the crime lord’s interests with ease. 
> 
> Oswald has something brewing for our vigilante...


	19. Assault On All Fronts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim assaults a key location to the Pax Penguina program while Bruce and Alfred make a special delivery to the GCPD. Oswald, fed up with the vigilante and Victor’s inability to capture him, takes matters into his own hands.

—>z<—

Victor has a full day Thursday. After Penguin instructs him to find the vigilante the day prior, he spends every waking moment checking in with his men and following up on scheduled heists the mystery man might target.

He narrows down his list to the three most critical transactions scheduled that night: two drug deals and an arms sale. Francisco Camacho’s sale is set to happen at one of his buildings in the warehouse district.

With Camacho’s ties to Avendaño, Zsasz plans to take the arms sale with Xoch. He assigns Tasha and Astrid to take point on the two drug sales and assigns men to both women. Demaris and Ursula will check in throughout the night with his other men working on larger scale operations. Camacho, feeling antsy after recent events at Avendaño’s sweatshop, requests Zsasz and his crew be present for his sale scheduled to occur around eight.

—

Zsasz’s men are already aiding Camacho’s in securing the building’s perimeter by the time he and Xochitl arrive with a few more men. He meets with them and confirms the truck scheduled for pick-up and transport arrives at the loading dock with no issues. Camacho’s men immediately begin loading it with crates full of weapons.

 

—>.:w:.<—

Lucius keeps watch atop a nearby warehouse, informing Bruce and Alfred of guards and potential threats. Wayne and Pennyworth respectively take the guards securing the perimeter from either direction, using their stun guns and modified net launchers. They stun, disarm and bind the unconscious men in flex cuffs or nets as they work their way inward and confiscate communication devices.

As they close in on the building, they identify more men guarding the truck and the warehouse, including Victor Zsasz and one of his henchwomen who flank the back of the almost loaded truck. Bruce and Alfred plan to synchronize their approach from either side with flash grenades. Prepared with stun guns and net launchers, Alfred will first take the front of the semi until secured, then assist Bruce in taking the building and the back of the truck.

 

—>z<—

Victor and Xochitl keep a vigilant eye out for trouble. Everyone’s on edge about the possibility of an attack, but given the amount of men they have covering the detail, Zsasz is confident they have sufficient coverage to counter a strike. However, as the final crates are being loaded, Victor grows uneasy.

 _Something doesn’t feel right. Something’s_ **_off_** _._

As if on cue, Zsasz and Xochitl warily look to one other. He suspiciously addresses her.

“Hey. When’s the last time you saw the guys working the inner perimeter?”

Her eyes widen with dismay. The moment they unholster their weapons and turn towards their respective sides of the truck, they’re deafened, blinded and stunned by a powerful blast.

Victor struggles to maintain his balance with his impaired equilibrium. Seconds feel like an eternity. He looks over to where Xoch was just standing and sees a double image of her on the ground. She doesn’t appear to have serious injuries, at least not from blood loss. He looks to the building with difficulty. He sees double of everything and can’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears.

Staggering men struggle to stay upright and soon begin falling one by one. Victor can tell by the direction of their falls, the interloper is approaching from Xochitl’s side of the truck. He turns towards direction of the threat and begins firing from both Sigs. His vision is gradually improving, but it’s still difficult to lock onto a target. His hearing gradually improves and can now hear gunfire from multiple directions.

Zsasz fires repeatedly at the double image of the rapidly approaching masked man in black to no avail. Just as Victor begins to get his bearings, his assailant forces his arms apart, strikes him in the chest and headbutts him. The assassin struggles to remain upright, but staggers backward.

As the gunman stumbles, his assailant hoists a leg and slams his foot against Victor's inner right thigh. The blow torques the left side of his body forward and making it impossible to regain his footing. His attacker instantly wrenches his Sig from his left hand.

As he goes down, he fires from his other GSR, but the vigilante kicks away his right forearm and he loses his second weapon. Zsasz peers up at his opponent looking down at him. As he plummets, he makes a point to look at the man’s chin. Victor has one final thought before his head slams into a nearby crate.

 

 

 

 

 _Definitely_ **_not_ ** _Jim._

—

When Victor comes to, the first face he sees is Xochitl’s. Her concerned expression gives way to relief. She offers him his Sigs, grips forward. He takes and holsters them before rubbing the newest lump on the back of his head. He can’t help but notice how she keeps glancing up at his head.

“I knew you were too hard-headed was to suffer any real damage.”

When he reaches to rub it, he grimaces and grunts from the pain. He can also tell by the way his glove catches onto it, he has broken skin, but isn’t currently bleeding.

Zsasz can also tell by the way she presses her lips together and avoids his gaze, that her crack is a hamfisted attempt at levity before breaking him bad news. He shakes his head at her.

“Just tell me.”

She briefly looks to the ground before peering back.

“All the men were either hit with stun guns and bound with flex cuffs or…”

“ _What_ , Xoch?”

She puffs out a defeated sigh.

“...captured in some pretty fancy nets, but that’s not all...”

He presses his eyes shut and shakes his head at her grim expression. He mouths the word “fuck” before replying in unison with her.

“He took the truck.”

 

—>.:w:.<—

Alfred drives the truck filled with weapons right up to the entrance of the GCPD and slams it into park. He quickly abandons the vehicle and joins Bruce, who waits for him in a black Mustang one lane over before the rapidly approaching uniformed officers can identify them. Earlier, they spray painted a message on a tarp that they leave dangling from the closed driver side door.

“Attn.: CAPT Harvey Bullock”

Inside the trailer, Francisco Camacho and his men frantically struggle to free themselves from their nets or the flex cuffs binding their hands.

 

—>j<—

_8:40 Thursday evening:_

Jim and Headhunter converge at Mean Jean’s.

“HH! I left the launcher at Miguel and Chuy’s garage.”

Headhunter nods; he’s on the phone. Mean Jean bear hugs Jim and hollers.

“This motherfucker right here is one badass son of a bitch!”

The patrons in the bar holler back and hold up their drinks. Mean Jean’s sons, eight of them, gather around.

Jean sets Jim down.

“So what did you need of us, Swift?”

Jim looks around the bar. Jean nods and asserts.

“These mercs and hunters are with us. I threw out Penguin spies long ago. Go ahead.”

Headhunter comes in and adds.

“Swift, I just heard that a semi truck was parked in front of the police station…”

Jim’s phone rings; it’s Harvey. He shows Headhunter and holds up one finger to give him a minute.

“Harv.”

“Buddy! Holy fuck! Never gonna believe what’s sittin’ in front of the GCPD. A truckload of weapons, Francisco Camacho, and his men all cuffed and stuffed in the trailer with their merchandise. I’ve called the Feds; no way in hell I’m releasin’ this cargo and criminals to Oswald. Jim, any chance of you comin’ in and helpin’ out? Not sure if Zsasz and crew will be over to take the truck before the agents show up.”

Jim furrows his brow.

“I doubt they are concerned with that at the moment. Their license hub was blown to bits. One sec.”

Jim looks at Mean Jean and asks.

“Any chance we can round up a crew to help out the GCPD protect a truck? They’re waiting on federal agents to come in and take charge.”

Mean Jean whistles for several mercs and hunters.

“On it, Swift!”

Jim addresses Harvey on the phone.

“Harv, I have a team of bounty hunters coming in to help protect the truck from Oswald’s men. How many officers do you have that can help as well?”

“Just the handful, Romero, Alvarez, Rodriguez, Harper and a few others. The other cops on Pax have said if Zsasz shows up they ain’t puttin’ up a fight.”

“Swift, tell’em to expect a team of ten; they’re on their way!”

“Did you hear that?”

“Sure did! You’re comin’ too, right?”

“I can’t; I have something to do, but once I’m done, I’ll be there.”

Jim ends the call and returns to Headhunter and Mean Jean.

“We are going to bust into Oswald’s lounge. There’s a man frozen in a block of ice that will give us leverage over Penguin— _The Riddler._ ”

Headhunter rubs his chin and exclaims.

“No fucking shit!?”

“HH, since you have that tracker on Zsasz, we can at least avoid him. I think since this vigilante is making Oswald’s life hell I’m sure Freeze and Firefly will sooner or later _have_ to leave the lounge to deal with the threat. We wait till they are gone; I don’t want to chance going head to head with them.”

Mean Jean speaks up.

“Maybe this vigilante will strike again soon and flush them out?”

Jim nods.

“We need to watch the lounge. Meantime, we will need a vehicle with a wench and straps. The ice block Edward Nygma is in is fairly large.”

Headhunter adds.

“I can get us a flatbed.”

Jim nods and says.

“Okay, I’m sure there will be a huge perimeter patrol around the area. I’ll go stake out a surveillance point and take first watch.”

Mean Jean pats Jim on the back and says.

“The freezer is already cleared out. I’ll go with you; then my boys can come and relieve us if need be.”

Jim nods as Headhunter hands him the Nikon binoculars from his pack. Headhunter states as he heads to the door.

“I’ll keep you in the loop of where Zsasz is. I’ll be waiting on your call when we’re ready to storm the fort!”

Mean Jean calls out to his sons.

“Noe and Youssef, be ready to relieve us. The rest of you boys get some rest and ready our weapons. Lock the bar up tight.”

Jim and Jean leave and head towards Penguin’s Iceberg Lounge.

 

—>  <—

_8:50 Thursday evening:_

Oswald sits at his desk fuming. He sent Ivy to retrieve Mrs. Gordon and knows that the wait will be hours. He instructed two of his men to get a video camera and television equipment. He gave them exact instructions of how to set up the equipment in his empty warehouse.

Oswald calls Zsasz.

“Victor, come to the lounge. Immediately.”

Oswald sits and stews. He wants to hear one more time from Victor what the vigilante looks like, but he knows that the assassin is going to lie.

Oswald seethes as he downs his glass of whiskey. His thoughts turn to the night Victor was in his room. Though he still doesn’t remember much, he is certain that Zsasz forced himself on him.

_I’m sure he was betting that I wouldn’t remember much. I often don’t when I’m drunk. I should’ve had Freeze ice him on the spot that day…_

A devious plot begins formulating in his mind. He wants to draw the most exquisite suffering from both Victor and Jim.

_What would be the most heinous thing? Zsasz torturing and murdering Jim’s mother while Jim watches. Then, when he’s done, have Victor unveil the hostage. And just when he realizes what he’s done, Ivy will get him under control. She will make him kill those women of his, then… at last… Jim. We can have him torture and dispatch his boyfriend in the same manner as poor dear Mrs. Gordon. Let the effects of Ivy’s perfume wear off in the locked room with his dismembered lover. Watch as he goes insane. Maybe he’ll be strong enough to off himself immediately. I hope not. I could have him in the room with no way of killing himself. Oh, he’ll suffer for days!_

Oswald clears his mind and starts thinking on the logistics of his plan.

 

—>z<—

Zsasz takes a deep breath as he enters the Iceberg Lounge, steeling himself to face Penguin. Only after getting out of his Impala did he realize exactly how badly he _still_ hurt. And now this fresh hell? He also has yet to tell The Boss about Camacho. The kingpin hung up on him before he had a chance.

He makes his way through the club and knocks on Oswald’s office door.

“Boss.”

Oswald is at his minibar when he hears the knock. He barks out.

“Zsasz!”

Victor opens the office door and enters, clenching his teeth. He closes the door behind him and briefly looks to the floor, shifting uncomfortably.

Oswald sips from his crystal glass, the smokey notes of his whiskey do nothing to settle his anger. He takes a deep breath and reins in the rage that wants to lash out. He doesn’t turn to look at Victor; he sips from the glass and calmly asks.

“Have you heard what happened at the large licensing hub?”

Oswald keeps his gaze to the drink in his hand for fear of attacking his treacherous enforcer himself. He chants in his head to remain calm.

Victor crinkles his brow and looks around, unaware of any developments there. The Girls and his men were handling the large heists, drop offs and working to locate the vigilante. He shakes his head and replies tentatively.

“Uh… _no_...”

Oswald nods and informs him.

“It was blown up. Mr. Penn, my crime licensure books, and many of my own men all gone. It had to be the same people who stopped the gala event and set Ciro’s workers free. Have you run across these attackers recently? Have you seen anything?”

Victor blinks in shock at the news then hears query about the attackers—the topic he has dreaded the entire drive down.

“Uh… yeah. About that. I’ve got some really bad news.”

Zsasz briefly looks down and rubs the back of his head.

“You hung up before I could tell you. Tonight… at Camacho’s sale? The guy showed up and he uh… He took Camacho’s guns… and his men… and I think even Camacho.”

Victor presses his lips together and looks down.

Oswald whips around to gape at Victor. When the news settles in, he staggers and falls back into his bar, his eyes wide and his mouth open. He drops his drink and screams in disbelief.

“WHAAAAAAAT!? What the _hell_ did you just say to me!?”

Zsasz takes a breath. He knows it sounds incredible. Had he not personally experienced it, he wouldn't believe it either. He _still_ can’t. He briefly presses his eyes shut before repeating himself.

“The guy took Camacho’s guns, his men… and probably _him,_ too.”

Oswald runs a hand down his face and glares at Victor. His heart racing, his hands clenching as he trembles.

“You… wait… You said _him_ as in one!? How can _one person_ do all this in **_one night_** , Victor?! He blew up my license hub, thwarted Camacho and took my weapons, and mailed me all of _these!_ ”

Oswald charges to his desk and grabs a handful of the bloodied licenses and throws them to the ground.

“These are the licenses of the no-shows! They were all _murdered!_ Zsasz, what did this man look like?! What did you see?!”

Victor sighs with exasperation. He doesn’t have much to tell. He raises his hand to signify the man’s height, which is the same as Jim’s.

“Not a lot. White male. 5’ 9”. He wore a mask. I could only see the bottom of his face. He wore all black. His mask was black too.”

Oswald’s chest is heaving and his temper threatening to give him away. He snarls.

“Is that all you’ve seen?! _After all the beatings?!_ Just _a man_ all in black? _Nothing else_ _?!_ ”

“I couldn’t see anything at Avendaño’s because it was too dark. But tonight, Boss. Yeah. It wasn’t dark yet. There was light from the warehouse. After the flash grenades… He uh… _yeah_. He was all in black and wore a black mask. That’s it.”

Oswald walks around to his chair and plops down. He turns the chair to face out the window. He takes a moment to collect himself then says.

“Victor, right now I have Ivy out there bringing someone in that might prove helpful to us. I will need you and your women to come when I call. I might have a plan to end all of this. Make yourself available. I will need everyone there in case things get out of hand. Wait for my call.”

Zsasz nods.

“I’ll let The Girls and my men know. We gotta location yet?”

“I will be bringing this person to my empty warehouse out near the _ruins_ of the license hub. Keep your men doing their details. I will only need your _women_ there with you.”

“Sure thing. We’ll be waiting for the call.”

Victor waits for more details.

Oswald sucks in a breath and says.

“Bring all of your torture tools. Come prepared to inflict pain.”

Victor grins at the promise of some fun. After weeks of frustration and getting his ass handed to him, he’s looking forward to a little playtime.

“On it.”

Oswald then turns his chair; his gaze icy and his face hard. He swivels his head and blinks a few times as he asks.

“I hope your not squeamish that it’s an old woman?”

Victor tilts his head and arches a brow.

“If she’s an old woman, she’s done better than a _lotta_ people in this town.”

He casually shrugs.

“Besides, everybody’s gotta check out _sometime_.”

Oswald raises an eyebrow and smirks. He leans back in his chair and replies.

“That’s the Zsasz I know. Sharpen your tools. You may have _two_ people to render to bits before the night is done.”

Zsasz’s grin stretches even wider and he bites his lower lip. He briefly raises his brows and shoulders with excitement. He’s practically giddy.

“Double prizes!”

Oswald’s next response practically spills from his mouth between fits of laughter, the hidden meaning lying underneath thinly veiled comradery.

“You may very well get _all that you deserve_ after what _he’s_ put you through.”

“I should be so lucky.”

Oswald looks Victor up and down and smirks.

“After it’s all said and done, you will _rest_ easier. Now go; I need you to look after the other license hub. I will have to get the word out the location for all licenses will change after tonight.”

Victor smiles and nods before striding out.

“On it, Boss.”

 

—>  <—

Gotham Port Authority Officer, Joe Cardinale, used to love his job, but ever since his encounter with that intimidating bald man and those three women, he’s been afraid to come to work. He barely sleeps anymore and is overcome with dread every time the phone rings or when a new vessel arrives.

He sighs bitterly as he looks to the next cargo vessel arriving in the distance. Suddenly, three dark SUVs and two box trucks with Immigration and Customs Enforcement insignias speed up and quickly park. Two ICE agents promptly exit the first SUV and rapidly approach. As he strides up to meet them, the woman driving the closest vehicle raises her badge and extends her hand.

“Mr. Cardinale, I’m Agent Chizoma Onwudiwe. Our agency received a tip about a cargo vessel scheduled to arrive within the hour. It allegedly contains trafficking victims and illegal goods. Agent Orlowski and I have contacted your superiors and they should be arriving at any moment.”

—

ICE seizes and holds the suspected cargo vessel to search. They make a number of disturbing finds that include victims of human trafficking, black market animal goods, in addition to drugs and firearms. Agents Onwudiwe and Orlowski contact and coordinate with other federal agencies. Drug Enforcement Agency personnel arrives later that night, as well as the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, who were already responding to an incident at a local precinct.

Around two o’clock Friday morning, Lucius receives a text:

 

_“Thought I’d return the favor. I can’t_

_say I was thrilled to get your call in_

_the middle of the night, but let’s just_

_say I’ve since changed my mind._

_;^) —Zo”_

 

—>z<—

After meeting with Penguin, Victor heads to the smaller licensing hub with Xoch and some of his best men as instructed.

Zsasz redistributes his men and checks in with The Girls, relieved to hear that neither drug sale had any snags and they secured some sizable hauls for Penguin. He also received good news about several other successful pickups. He updates staff on their assignment change and instructs them to delay payment delivery until after the warehouse gig. They prepare to head to Penguin’s warehouse at a moment’s notice, ready for anything.

Because Victor recently cleaned and sharpened all the blades in his large knife roll, he still remembers its contents: his favorite clip, drop, spear, needle and trailing points, as well as his tanto and smaller talon blades.

He calls Astrid.

“Hey. Before you head over here, I need you pick to up my kit and bring it.”

“You got everything in it? Need anything else?”

Victor looks up and mentally inventories the contents of his duffel: his large knife roll, arm and leg restraints and rope. He has pliers for fingernails and teeth, pruning shears for fingers, as well as a drill, a handsaw and a hand torch.

_Man would I love to use that thing on Freeze’s fucking face._

“Yeah, I think that’s it. No, wait. Bring my dermatome blades. I gotta work on an old lady.”

“So, just the Weck Goulian set?”

“Yeah. I doubt she’ll have much fight. She probably won’t last long enough for me to pull ‘em out, but still. Oh wait. Penguin said that we might have another other one. If it’s that guy in black, I wanna have plenty of options.”

“So, the Braithwaite and Cobbett?”

“You know what? Just bring _all_ of ‘em—and that kit The Dentist put together for me. Wait. And the cattle prod.”

“Got it. See you soon.”

Victor snaps his phone shut and smiles at Xochitl.

“Finally! Some _fun_ after this _shitty_ week!”

Victor gets comfortable and waits. He reaches into his pocket and slowly runs his thumb along the replacement boxcutter Jim left him. He wonders if Jim’s okay and hopes he doesn’t have to wait too long to see him again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh… So… I don’t like getting my &ss handed to me by this vigilante guy. Honestly, I remember Deya and I talking about the logistics of how Penguin would be inundated by attacks from Jim along with Baby Bat/Proto Batman. I couldn’t help but think over how badly my Zsasz was gonna catch all kindsa h3ll from Oswald thinking it was all Jim and even Zsasz worrying it was Jim, too. 
> 
> To kinda rip off a quote from Penguin, “No one appreciates how hard it is to be an assassin and mob enforcer.” :D
> 
> Oh… and cue the dramatic music! My poor Zsaszy has no idea what that evil little Oswald Cobblepot has planned for him. Don’t look at me, y’all! You know how Deya—I mean Penguin is! GET READY!
> 
> }8> -o-
> 
> ______
> 
> I loved writing about what Oswald wants to do to Victor and Jim. I find diving into deep dark material a mental breather. It's base. It's evil and I love dreaming up weird shit. Oswald didn’t forget or forgive. It's not in his nature to do so. He might have waited a bit too long to because his empire just took one hell of a hit.
> 
> And poor Jim... all he want is to go home to Victor. Little does he know that Oswald is a scheming bitch. In the next chapter some ugly shit starts going down.
> 
> ~FC


	20. Ivy's Petulance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and his crew of bounty hunters get ready to storm The Iceberg Lounge. Ivy returns to Gotham with a prisoner in tow. Once back, Pepper faces a very curt and ungrateful Penguin.

—>  <—

_12:20 a.m. Friday:_

Ivy is driving back from Rolling Greens town; she has Irene Gordon in the backseat under her spell. Ivy looks back at the woman from time to time and can feel her gut wrench. Though she has no love for Jim Gordon, she can’t help but feel sorry for Victor. She’s been thinking about Penguin’s plan and, though she isn’t as squeamish as she once was, she thinks he is going too far.

_Why all the games and horror? Just off them both with two bullets and be done with it. But to influence Victor to murder Jim’s mom then make him murder Jim? I mean sure okay, but kill Victor quickly after… he wants to lock him in the same room with mama Gordon and Jim’s bodies… sick creep._

Ivy looks back at Mrs. Gordon. The oblivious woman is smiling and humming to herself as she looks out the passenger side window. The woman has her hair in a loose bun, a sleeveless button up, a long cardigan, faded blue jeans and some ratty looking shoes. Irene was walking amongst her roses and admiring the fireflies when Ivy snuck into her backyard and got her under her perfume’s influence.

_She’s a really great gardener. Her garden practically sang to me as I was busy getting her under my spell. She gives the plants such great care. How can I allow Penguin to destroy someone whose garden sings? Her house also smelled of pies and cookies. Jim must of led a pretty great childhood to have her as a mom._

Ivy huffs a loud sigh and continues driving; she reaches for the pan of pilfered cookies in the passenger seat and takes a large bite of a warm chocolate chip confectionary. She has another two hours to drive before she reaches Gotham.

 

—> <—

Oswald looks at his watch and makes another drink.

_Ivy must be taking her time, bratty woman-child she is! If her talents weren’t so useful I would have gotten rid of her long ago!_

He gets a call from his men setting up the warehouse.

“It’s all done, boss. The camera is in the room and we have the television and equipment on the main floor.”

“Excellent. Stand by ready to assist Ivy when she arrives with the captive.”

“Yes, sir.”

Oswald ends the call as Freeze walks in. Victor has a look of concern as he questions the small man.

“Do you really want both me and Firefly there? It will leave the lounge unprotected.”

Oswald nods as he sips his drink.

“I doubt anyone is going to break into the club when we are gone. Besides, this shouldn’t take too long, an hour at most. I doubt the old woman will live long enough to satiate Victor’s lust for long, drawn out torture. Once Zsasz is under Ivy’s spell, I’ll have Jim hauled to the boiler room where his dead mother lies. I want to watch as Zsasz puts a bullet into those women’s heads then render Jim into itty bitty pieces. Then we leave him there in that room to live out his last days!”

Oswald clenches his teeth; his body trembles with the prospect of exacting a horrific revenge.

Fries nods once but doesn’t reply. Though he doesn’t care for the assassin, he’d rather not hear about Zsasz’s torturous death. He doesn’t find Oswald’s plan amusing, even if it is the _other Victor_. His thoughts stray to his own fate: doomed to never again feel the warmth of an embrace. He can’t help but place himself in Zsasz’s shoes. He envisions standing over Nora’s mutilated body… Fries staggers. He shakes his head as his jaw goes rigid.

He looks at Oswald who seems to be indulging in his own world of dark imagery, his little body quivering as his mind travels to disturbing places. Victor inhales a small breath and monotones.

“Oswald, once we are done, wouldn’t that make it harder for us to enforce Pax Penguina effectively? Without Zsasz and his women?”

Oswald snaps out of his thoughts and blinks at Freeze. He can feel the blood surge to his head, infuriated that Fries would question his methods. His eyes narrow on the tall man while his fingers around his drink tap the glass.

“Are you actually suggesting that I keep Zsasz _alive?_ ”

Fries can see that Oswald is on the cusp of an explosion. He shakes his head and shrugs.

“Alive or dead, I really don’t care. But _the truth is_ we don’t have the numbers to enforce the Pax as effectively. Do we have a backup team?”

Oswald clenches his jaw and juts it out. He knows Freeze is right. He had no backup plan for all the failures he’s experienced so far with his program. Though Victor and his women had a hard time _(supposedly)_ thwarting the vigilante _(Jim)_ , they still managed to save what they could. However, he is still convinced all his problems stem from Zsasz’s attachment to Jim and that his enforcer allowed his lover to prevail in his efforts to stymie Pax Penguina. He inhales a sharp breath and nods once.

“We may have some problems with enforcement but I’m sure we can handle it. Victor’s men may be persuaded with more money. Also, I may have to scale back the license program and find other avenues for money. Right now, however, I’m more concerned with dealing with that traitor and his boyfriend.”

Freeze wanders to Oswald’s desk and eyes the breath crystallizer he gifted the small kingpin. The little lights dance lazily in the gloom of the office. He turns his attention to the small man and studies Oswald as he sits lost in his world again. He decides to ask a question that’s been nagging at him for a couple of days.

“Oswald, what happened that morning? It was the same day you started acting different with Zsasz.”

Oswald turns away from Fries; the question takes him off guard. Bitter bile rises to the top of his throat. He wanted to squash what little memories he had of that night from his mind. He resents Fries for bringing it up. Oswald slumps in his chair and flashes his eyes at the frozen man and states.

“Nothing! I will call you when it’s time to go.”

Fries eyes Oswald as he turns his chair to look out the window. He lingers a moment longer but decides to leave the man alone with his thoughts.

—

_02:40 am Friday:_

Ivy pulls up to the warehouse with Irene in tow. She and Mrs. Gordon walk up to a couple of Oswald’s men, waiting to help her. They lead both of them below to the lower level of the warehouse. They travel down a mini-maze of corridors to a large room with a door to another smaller utility area just beyond. They open the thick door to find a small space with pipes and mechanisms cluttered on a back wall. There’s a chair in the middle of the floor with leather straps. Behind it is a camera. One of the guards is carrying a gag and a hood in their hands. Ivy stands aside and states to Irene.

“Open your mouth.”

Irene nods and complies with Ivy’s command. Irene waits with her open mouth as one of the men gag her. They sit her down in the chair and use the attached cuffs to bind her arms and legs. Finally, they place the hood over her head. A video camera is aimed at the chair so Jim can see what will become of his mother.

Ivy wanders over to the camera as she calls Oswald.

“Okay, we’re ready. Say Pengy, wouldn’t it be better if I just go ahead and put Victor under my perfume’s influence as soon as he gets here? Why wait?”

Oswald growls into the phone.

“Don’t question _me_ , Ivy! Just do as you’re told! _Or else!_ Get the Penguin Army ready in case things go south. They’re waiting in the open bay; get them under your influence and ready to heed _my command_. _Then wait for my call!_ ”

Oswald ends the call.

Ivy seethes with the way Oswald just takes her suggestions and disregards them entirely, not to mention how he always talks to her like she’s incompetent. She looks down at the camera and into the control panel. A devious plot enters her mind.

_I think it’s time to let Penguin know I’ve had enough._

She turns the volume down halfway. She stomps back up to the main floor to do as Oswald instructed, only she has new orders for the army. She smirks at the countless possibilities of how the night will end.

 

 

 

 

 

—>j<—

Jim and Mean Jean manage to get closer to the lounge than they initially anticipated. Jim figures that Oswald has his men running all over Gotham to contain any uprisings from the vigilante and rival gangs. Jean is watching the lounge while Jim reloads his guns. They had to kill two guards on the way in. They confiscated the sentries’ phones and radios in case they are called for status updates.

They are in the garage where Jim and Victor first hooked up. He fondly remembers that night. It was the first time he and Victor indulged in pleasuring each other against the wall; it was hot, hurried and passionate. The days of cat and mouse and that first forceful kiss on the rooftop had him wanting for more. Jim will always remember how the assassin seduced him atop of The Iceberg Lounge but the night in the garage is much more vivid in his memories.

Mean Jean is kneeling near the edge of the garage rooftop making sure to keep low and out of view. He witnesses as Oswald, Mr. Freeze and Firefly exit the lounge along with several men. Oswald looks to be giving the men instruction before the three get into a car.

“Hey Swift, Penguin, ice man and fire girl are leaving the lounge.”

Jim joins him at the edge of the roof. The both of them watch as the trio gets into a car and drives off.

“No telling how many are in there. Let’s keep watch for a few minutes and see if they have perimeter sentries, then I’ll call Headhunter.”

Mean Jean nods and sends a group text to his sons to be ready.

“Okay, informing my boys.”

Jim takes out his phone and dials out to Harvey.

“Jimbo!”

“Harv, hopefully all is quiet at the GCPD.”

“Yeah, so far so good. Agents are an hour out. What are you doin’ that you can’t come over?”

Jim chuckles and states.

“Something foolish and rash. By tomorrow morning we should be out from under Oswald’s thumb.”

Harvey groans and gruffs.

“Jimbo! What do you mean? _Just what exactly are you doin’?_ ”

Jim shrugs and eyes Mean Jean.

“Getting leverage. I’ll call you later.”

Mean Jean hears a text drop in and reads it.

“Swift, I think we’ll be okay despite whatever numbers are in that building. A few buddies said they want in. They have numbers, at least a dozen not counting my sons and Headhunter’s guys. I think we can storm the fort with ease.”

Jim’s phone buzzes with an incoming call from Headhunter.

“HH, what’s the word on that flatbed and harnesses?”

“Miguel and Chuy are on their way with the flatbed to our headquarters; they’re fifteen minutes out.”

“Okay, Penguin and his crew have left the lounge.”

“As soon as the truck gets here we will be on the way, so plan on thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes. Okay, see you all soon!”

Jim closes his phone. Mean Jean calls his sons and his friends to coordinate the times.

_This may be over quicker than I ever anticipated. Then I can call Victor and hope he isn’t angry with me over all of this. I can only imagine the hell Oswald is putting him through because of me and this mysterious other vigilante making his job difficult._

Jim can feel his gut wrench over the possibility that Zsasz will resent him or seek revenge for all the frustration he has caused.

_I don’t know what I’ll do if Victor hates me. It would kill me to lose him to this…_

His mind replays the last time he saw Victor. His dark watchful eyes begged him not to go. The promise Jim made to return seemed to fall upon deaf ears.

_There was dread and resignation on Victor’s face._

Jim shakes his head as he takes a deep breath in. He reaches into his jacket and fingers the boxcutter nestled in an inside pocket. He thinks about that last morning in his apartment when he awoke to Victor caressing him. Jim’s heart aches to experience more mornings like that.

 

—>  <—

Oswald arrives at the warehouse and finds Ivy waiting for him on the main floor in front of the television. Her eyes are glued to Irene Gordon; the woman is now out of the influence of the perfume. She’s struggling and trying to scream past the gag in her mouth.

Oswald addresses Ivy curtly.

“Ivy, give me her phone!”

Ivy jumps at Oswald’s barking voice. She digs into her jacket and hands it over to the small kingpin who swipes it out of her hand angrily. Ivy’s eyes narrow and her brow furrows. A small smirk plays at the corner of her mouth but she releases it and waits for Oswald to instruct her.

“Go below and wait by the door. Be ready to get Victor under your influence.”

Freeze watches as Ivy storms away.

_Crap, she looks really pissed. Nothing good ever comes from a petulant Ivy Pepper. I have a bad feeling about this plan of Oswald’s._

His eyes turn to the old woman on the television as she struggles pathetically in her bindings. He watches as the hood over the woman’s head rapidly puffs in and out from her labored breaths.

Oswald digs into his jacket and takes out his phone to call Zsasz.

“Victor, come; bring your women. Try to get here quickly.”

“Got it. Be there in five.”

Zsasz snaps his phone shut and nods The Girls toward the warehouse.

“Showtime, ladies.”

Oswald closes his phone and looks at his watch. He begins walking to the television as large smile creeps on his face.

_Finally, I will be rid of Jim Gordon for good. Though I am appreciative of him saving my life, I think I have done more than enough to repay him that debt. Now he’s a detriment to my empire and all I have created. Look how he’s fouled Zsasz against me._

“Freeze, inform Firefly to wait by the exit around back in case we need cover getting out of here. Then return and wait upstairs on the catwalk.”

Freeze nods and heads out to where Firefly is stationed.

Oswald looks at his watch and looks through Mrs. Gordon’s phone for Jim’s number. He discovers it under ‘James’. He dials out.

 

—>j<—

Headhunter calls to Jim.

“Yo man, we are almost there.”

Jim watches as Mean Jean’s sons come onto the roof with over a dozen other men.

“Okay, we’re waiting. See you soon.”

Jim’s phone rings and he sees it’s from his mother. He contemplates letting her go to voicemail and returning her call her after they get Nygma. He then realizes the time.

_Something must be wrong for her to call at such an odd hour._

His brow crinkles in concern. He walks away from the men and answers the phone.

“Mom, why are you calling at this hour? What’s wrong?”

Jim hears Oswald’s giggle and his heart drops.

“Hello, _old friend_.”

Jim’s breath catches in his throat and he barely croaks out.

“ _What have you done to her?!_ ”

Oswald intakes a sharp breath and replies sweetly.

“Oh, nothing— _yet_. If you want to see your mother again, come by the warehouse down the street from my ruined license hub. _You know_ … the one you blew to bits. Come alone or _else_.”

Jim can feel his chest tighten as his heart aches. He’s rendered shell-shocked that Oswald knew where to find his mother and that he was the one who blew up the facility. His mind only brings up one possibility, the only thing that he _dreads_ to be true. Before he can stop himself, he stutters out.

“H… How did you know? _How…?_ ”

Oswald places one hand on his hip and smirks. He peers up at Freeze who is watching him from the railing.

“Oh, I think you _know_. I guess Zsasz got tired of you making things difficult for _us_. He gave up your mother _without_ hesitation; he practically gift wrapped her! Oooh… (sucks his teeth) poor… poor Jim. I guess the bloom is off the romance, huh?”

Jim can feel his heart break; his stomach cramps hard. He’s on the verge of throwing up.

 _Headhunter was right. But Victor_ **_promised_ ** _me he would never use my mother against me. Victor…_

Jim falls to his knees, the weight of his guilt, heartache and regret too much to bear. He tries to plead with Oswald.

“Please, don’t hurt her… I’ll surrender to you.”

Mean Jean eyes Jim warily and approaches.

“Come alone. Get here quickly or she dies a horrible death by Victor’s hands.”

Oswald spies Victor and his women entering the warehouse with tools in tow. He smiles and closes the phone.

Jim crumbles to the floor. Mean Jean quickly kneels beside him and places his hand on Jim’s back as he asks.

“Swift, what’s wrong?”

Jim gasps in a few breaths, doing his best to collect what little strength he has left. His mind brings up the tenderness of the last morning he awoke in Victor’s arms. Then when they parted ways, how fiercely Victor clung to him. A couple of sobs escape from Jim’s mouth but he quickly composes himself.

“Nothing… don’t deviate from the plans.”

Jim sits up, his face stained with tears. He takes a few deep breaths and continues to address Mean Jean.

“Everyone in that building _dies_. Get The Riddler to your freezer and use him to get Oswald to back off the Pax Penguina. If he doesn’t back off, start chopping bits off and mail them to him. Jean, if you or HH don’t hear from me in the next twenty four hours, just carry on as planned. Okay?”

Jean furrows his brow and gruffs.

“Swift, you sound like you might disappear from the face of the earth. _What’s going on?_ ”

Jim stands and zips up his jacket, turning to leave the rooftop of the garage.

 

—>z<—

Oswald beams Zsasz a smile and waits for him to get close. He tucks the pilfered phone back into his pocket in case Victor recognizes it.

_Oh, Victor if only you knew. You’ve already broken Jim’s heart and you haven’t even begun slicing up his mother._

Victor strides into the warehouse with his kit slung over his shoulder and The Girls trailing behind him. For the first time in the longest, he’s actually _excited_ about work. As he approaches Penguin, he notices the fancy television setup displaying the bound and struggling hostage. He nods to it and remarks with a wolfish grin.

“We puttin’ on a show tonight?”

Oswald glances at the set and nods.

“I want our mysterious vigilante to see what’s happening to dear sweet mom. I figure he’ll spill his guts about whether or not he had help when he witnesses your handiwork.”

Oswald eyes Victor up and down with a mischievous smirk plastered on his face.

Victor chuckles and arches a brow.

“Guess I’ll _really_ have to pull out all the stops if I’m gonna have an audience.”

Oswald wraps his left arm around his waist and rests his right elbow on his forearm. He brings his thumbnail to his mouth as he giggles. He hears Freeze from up top grumble loudly.

“Oswald, we shouldn’t take too much time with _all this_.”

Fries’ nagging gut is telling him this is all a mistake.

 _We’re letting our guard down for this display._ _Too much can go wrong and Oswald is completely blinded by revenge to feel it._

Oswald’s brow furrows and his pale green eyes flash up as he addresses Fries.

“We’ll take as long as we must!”

Freeze shakes his head and stands back.

Zsasz watches on with mild surprise at Freeze and Penguin’s little disagreement. It occurs to him that, despite his hatred of the iceman, the guy has good instincts—and Penguin rarely quibbles with him. He also begins wondering how the hell Penguin managed to find a ghost so quickly, not to mention a ghost’s _mother_. He nods back at the kingpin.

“So, Boss. Where’s my playmate?”

Oswald nods his head to some side doors that lead down to the lower level.

“She’s waiting for you in the boiler room. I want you in there and your women standing guard outside the room, in case things get out of hand. Ivy will also be down there to assist.”

Victor nods and tilts his head towards The Girls.

“Ladies, you heard the man.”

Victor and his henchwomen head downstairs and eventually find Ivy outside the boiler room. Even though Ivy isn’t nearly as cool with him as she used to be, he’s still glad to see her. He shoots her a wide grin as he swaggers up.

“Hey, Pepper. Where’s she at?”

Ivy beckons Victor close and points in the room. Her brows raise and her eyes widen as she keeps beckoning the assassin to come in closer with quick hand gestures.

Victor crinkles a brow and closes in. It’s been awhile since the kid’s actually taken the time to talk to him. He walks up close to her and tilts his head. He asks with circumspection.

“What’s up?”

Ivy steels her gaze into Victor’s eyes and whispers as she says.

“Before you start, you should take a _good look_ at this woman. You can’t remove the hood… there’s a camera set up and Oswald is watching. Just look at her closely. This is important. _Got it_ _?_ Okay, go in but don’t start till the guy’s in the warehouse! I will let you know with a knock.”

Ivy gives Victor a determined look and nods to the room.

Zsasz nods and cautiously responds.

“Sure. Okay. Check out the lady. Penguin’s watching. Wait for the knock.”

He suspiciously narrows his gaze and tilts his head.

“Pepp… you alright?”  
  
Ivy nods as her brow furrows with determination. She leans in close and whispers again.

“There’s audio. If you are going to ask her questions… try to do it _quietly_. I lowered the volume a little bit. Go.”

Ivy’s eyes track back and forth on Victor’s eyes. Her steely gaze never relinquishing.

Victor presses his lips together and replies with a measured nod.

_Somethin’s up._

Zsasz casts a wary look back at The Girls. They knowingly narrow their eyes and nod back. He opens the door as the hostage struggles and screams through the gag. Before walking into the room, he stops a moment and turns back to Pepper. He reaches beneath her elbow and holds it, giving her a concerned look.

“Hey. Pepper. _Watch your six, okay?_ ”

He pointedly nods at her.

“Holler if you need me.”

He reluctantly releases Ivy and walks into the boiler room.

Irene is trying her best to scream through the gag when she hears the door open. A familiar voice catches her attention and she stops struggling.

_That voice is very distinct. I know it… Victor!_

She tries her best to say ‘ _Victor’_ through her gag.

Before Victor can even get a good look at the captive, he can't help but notice she goes from hysterically screaming and struggling to free herself, to planting her feet and repeatedly shouting something through her gag.

_Nobody ever does that._

Zsasz allows the door to close behind him. As he walks up with his duffel, he scans the woman from head to toe. He notices the familiar sleeveless coral top and faded jeans beneath her sweater. His brow crinkles. He takes another step forward and his eyes widen at the sight of her shoes.

 _They’re canvas just like…_ _No way. It can’t be…_

Victor subtly shakes his head and is overcome with dread as he moves in closer. He looks to the top of her left shoe and notices the yellow stain on it. He instantly recalls his weekend with Jim at his mother’s house. Mrs. Gordon helped him clean up the mac-n-cheese a kid accidentally plastered on him.

_"Mrs. Gordon, I think you got some on you too.”_

_Jim’s mother looks down and wiggles her toes in the shoe before wiping the food off and tossing it in the waste bin._

_"These old things? They’re just for runnin’ around in, hon. It’s okay. Really. Now go on.”_

Victor’s dumbstruck. His heart sinks and his hands go cold. His gait slows and he begins reaching for his face before suddenly remembering he’s on camera with audio— _that Pepper turned down._

 _I owe that kid big for this_.

Zsasz takes a deep breath, remembering he has an audience. He begins his performance _loudly_.

“Well, well, _well!_ I understand you’re our guest of honor tonight. _So glad_ to make your acquaintance! Still, I wasn’t ready to receive guests. Lemme tidy up first.”

He walks over to his captive and drops his duffel on the floor right by her foot as he continues his performance.

“See, I have _all these party favors_ , but they’re not ready yet.”

He squats beside her. As he rummages through the bag, he whispers.

“We have people _watching and listening_. If you’re who I think you are, gimme _one_ toe tap for ‘ _yes’_ and _two_ for ‘ _no’_. _Got it?_ ”

Irene almost nods her head but stops and taps her toe once. She can feel her heart racing and her mind bombarded with questions as to why she’s tied up. She’s more perplexed as to why Victor is there. She tries to silence her mind so she is able to concentrate on what Victor is going to say or ask her next.

—>j<—

Jim calls Harvey as he approaches the warehouse. He doesn’t know if it is too late but if there is the slightest chance he can save his mother, he’s going to take it.

“Jimbo!”

Jim does his best to to talk through the pain constricting his throat and chest. His voice cracks as he says.

“Harv, Oswald has my mother. I’m at a warehouse a block from the ruins of the old fish processing plant. It’s close to the water; you will see my bike. Harvey, I blew up the license hub and killed a lot of people associated with the license program. I may deserve to die, but not her. _Please, save my mother_. I’m surrendering to Oswald.”

Harvey scrambles to his car. He is at the site of the license hub destruction and within a few minutes of the warehouse.

“Jimbo! _No,_ don’t give yourself over to him! I’m comin’! _I’m comin’!_ ”

Jim places his phone in his shirt pocket and walks into the warehouse. He is immediately apprehended by two large men that commence with roughing him up. They take all his weapons and beat him down. A few punches to the face and a few to his already battered sides and Jim crumbles to his knees. The two guards grab him by the arms and drag him into the open bay and in front of the television.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember working out the logistics of these chapters and how Zsasz would figure out it was Momma Gordon under the hood. OHY! The drama! I was furiously typing with Deya as we spitballed this chapter and the next!
> 
> ERMAHGERD, YOU GUYS! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!
> 
> *Jess nervously bites her fingernails*
> 
> }8> -o-
> 
> For those of you who don’t remember, Victor made that promise to Jim in chapter 16 of “Boxcutter”, met Mrs. Gordon in chapter 17. The mac-n-cheese debacle happened in chapter 20. 
> 
> ______
> 
> This chapter was a hardcore night of spitballing, bullet format making, and loophole scouring. It was rattling our brains. We wanted some grandiose scheme and execution to give it all FLAIR. I’m sure we missed something but for now I’m proud of these two coming chapters. 
> 
> And then afterwards.... Sweet sweet mother.
> 
> P.S. Yeah, I could have had Ivy just TELL Victor that the woman in the room is Irene BUT that wouldn’t be any fun. Also Ivy has no loyalties to Victor and she’s pissed at Oswald. So her actions here could be summed up as “Chaotic Nuetral”? Maybe? Anyways, I hinted at that when she amusingly thought about all the possibilities of the night. So yeah there is sort of a loophole. 
> 
>  
> 
> ~FC


	21. Morning Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is forced to watch Zsasz torture his mother. Harvey races to aid Mrs. Gordon before it’s too late.

—>  <—

Oswald grins evilly as Jim’s battered body is drug towards the television set. He quickly dials out to Ivy.

“He’s here.”

Ivy grimly closes the phone and knocks on the door.

Victor hears the knock confirming they have their mystery guest, whom he’s _certain_ is Jim. He presses his lips together with resolve and takes a deep breath. He knows he hasn’t much time and has yet to confirm the woman’s identity. He whispers to the bound woman.

“Listen for the color and confirm ‘yes’ or ‘no’. _You with me?”_

Irene taps her toe once.

Victor stands and places his knife roll on the table he dragged beside his captive. He ceremoniously opens it, loudly addressing his hostage.

 

 

“I think it’s disrespectful to keep people waiting. I apologize for that, but I have somethin' _real special_ planned for you. _Personally?_ I’m lookin’ forward to it. _You?_ Probably not so much.”

—

Oswald beams down at the battered and defeated detective. One of the guards has a fistful of Jim’s hair to keep his head up to look at the television set. Oswald chirps loudly from the catwalk.

“You might want to watch; it will be the last time you see your mother _alive!_ ”

Jim looks up at Oswald; the two guards have a firm grip on his arms. He croaks out.

“Let her go. You have me. Jus… just let her go… pl… _please_.”

Oswald puts on a show of thinking really hard then throws his hands up and adds.

“No. I think not. I mean, I would hate for Victor to miss out on his fun. He so does love torturing people.”

Jim looks at the set and he can feel what remains of his heart shatter into dust. He watches on as Victor unrolls his assortment of knives. Jim can feel his body draw in on itself as sobs take hold of him. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“No… _Victor._ ”

 

 

—

Victor makes a show or running his leathered fingers down his knives as he grandstands.

“It’s a _real shame_ you can’t see all the things I brought special _just for you_. _Most_ people start praying ‘bout now, _‘specially_ the praying types. Fun fact: even the ones who _don’t usually pray_ start about now. You might wanna start now if you're gonna _._ ”

Victor’s fingers stop over his large trailing point. Although it’s not the best blade for _real_ cutting, it’s one of the biggest and showiest blades he owns and he has an audience to wow. He removes his gloves and picks it up by the spine, flipping it in the air and catching it by the handle. Once in hand again, Victor sighs wistfully and admires the craftsmanship.

“Me, personally? _Not_ the praying type. My bubbie is though. Does it all the time. Prays for everybody. She prays so much, a nice lady knitted her a prayer shawl awhile back. It was _white_.”

Irene sharply inhales and taps her toe twice.

Jim can barely hear what is being said over the sounds of his labored breaths, but he hears something about a shawl. He stops his sobbing and sucks in a deep breath and holds it. His eyes glued to the screen. His thoughts turn to prayer; pleading to whatever entity that may be listening.

 _Please… I will do anything…_ **_anything_** _. Devil,  have me if you will take me… just not her!_

Victor was certain the hostage was Mrs. Gordon, but the confirmation is like a punch to the gut. He ensures his back’s to the camera as he grabs his phone and fires off a quick text to The Girls:

_“Penguin played us_

_get upstairs now_

_listen for safe word_

_then help Gordon”_

Ivy watches as all the leathered women take out their phones and look at each other. Ivy props the door open a crack and makes for one of the staircases back up to the main level. She stops to look back at them and smiles.

“I would worry more about Freeze and Firefly than the army that is going to come out. Good luck!”

Ivy runs up the stairs.

Tasha, who rarely smiles, widely grins as she hollers to the exiting kid.

“We owe you _big time_ _,_ Pepper! _Watch your ass!_ ”

Tasha takes point and addresses the group.

“You heard her. Get up there on the DL and keep your pieces on Gordon until you hear the safe word.” She points towards the far stairs. “Urs and ‘Maris with Xoch. Astrid, looks like it’s you and me.”

Astrid looks to Xochitl before they split up.

“I _told_ you. You owe me _fifty_.”

Xoch shoots her the finger and Urs shoves her.  
  
“Xoch, stop fuckin’ around and watch your _ass_ — _especially_ around Freeze. Bridgit’s a badass too, but Freeze has got _all kinds_ of sick fuckin’ tech.”

When Xochitl makes a face, Demaris nods in agreement.

“She ain’t lyin’. _Watch yourself_. That fucker don’t play and he’s no fan of Zsasz’s. _And_ **_don’t_** _underestimate_ _Pike_. That flamethrower of hers has a _lot_ more precision and reach than you'd think.”

The women split up, quickly taking both sets of stairs to the first floor. They immediately fan out and take a corner, keeping a watchful eye out for Freeze and Firefly.

—

Harvey approaches the warehouse with his gun drawn. He walks the perimeter in search of a window or door he can go through. He sees a side door open as someone exits. He quickly raises his gun and growls out.

“Hey! Hands up!”

Ivy jumps and turns to see Harvey coming at her. She rolls her eyes as she huffs out with annoyance.

“You can either _arrest me_ or go in that door and _rescue Mrs. Gordon_. Might want to hurry, it’s kind of a maze down there. She’s being kept in a boiler room.”

Harvey wastes no time and lowers his gun. He runs for the door that Ivy exited from to find stairs going up to a top level and down to a basement. He quickly descends and opens the door to the lower level. He’s met with a long hallway that intersects with small corridors. Harvey quickly makes his way down a long passageway being cautious of anyone coming behind him from intersecting halls.

Harvey takes out his phone and calls to Alvarez.

“Alvarez, send backup to an old warehouse about a couple of blocks from that fish factory explosion. Hurry! It’s the one closest to the water.”

—

Jim watches on as Victor continues talking to his mother. He glances up to Oswald who is looking at his watch, his features scrunching up in annoyance. Mr. Freeze’s eyes are locked onto him, watching him carefully.

_I know I wasn’t hearing things. Victor isn’t a talker and wouldn’t just babble on about his bubbie and that shawl my mother gifted._

Jim’s eyes return to the television set.

_I better play along or Oswald and Freeze will get suspicious._

Jim continues with his display of agony as he watches on.

Victor quickly pockets his phone and whispers.

“Mrs. Gordon, I’m gettin’ you outta here, but we _gotta_ sell this. They’re watching. I’m gonna pretend to hurt you real bad. When I talk about the safe word, we’re gonna make a run for it. It might get kinda scary, but _I got you_. ‘Kay?”

Irene taps her toe once and starts sobbing. She wants to know if her son is safe and where he is at. She is sure this has something to do with her boy. The realization terrifies her that James could be hurt somewhere.

Zsasz chuckles under his breath.

_"That a girl.”_

Victor brandishes his trailing point for the benefit of the camera, menacingly circling her. He theatrically continues his shtik.

“Ya know, this big trailing point is really flashy _and lotsa fun_ , but I prefer the smaller, _simpler_ blades.”

He sets down the large knife and reaches into his pocket. He deliberately pulls out the utility knife Jim left him and slowly opens it.

“See, the smaller blades? They force you to get up _real close and personal_ like utility knives… _b o x c u t t e r s…_ "

He raises his hand, waving and twirling it between his two fingers as he walks behind her.

“Like this _blue_ one here. Call me schmaltzy, but I’m pretty sentimental about it. I’ve had it _forever_ and I just _love_ cuttin’ people with it.”

Jim’s eyes widen with the last statement. His broken heart finding its strength again.

 _Victor_ **_is_ ** _sending me a message._ _Only I know about his boxcutter_ _… he’s just pretending… it’s not real…_

Zsasz takes his hand and holds Mrs. Gordon’s neck below the base of her skull. He nudges her head to appear as if he’s forcing her head forward to cut her. It also allows him to cut his wrist and forearm without being seen on camera. He whispers to her.

“I need you to act like I’m cuttin’ your neck in 3, 2, 1….”

Victor begins slicing away at himself. Blood drips and spreads down the collar of Irene’s blouse, as well as her sweater and beyond.

Irene feels the squirt of something warm running down her neck and blouse and does her best to scream out in agony as best she can gagged. She then remembers to struggle in her bindings to help sell it.

Harvey hears a loud muffled sound on the other side of the hallway he’s traveling down. He hurries towards its direction and hopes he isn’t too late.

—

Oswald hears the old woman’s scream and looks at his watch again. He peers down at Jim who doesn’t look as distressed as he did before. He scrunches up his face and comments.

“I’m going to call Ivy to get Victor under _now_. _Something doesn’t feel right._ Let’s wrap this up immediately. _I want Jim in that room_.”

Mr. Freeze nods as he keeps watch below.

_About time. We should have killed them all by now and not wasted our time with these sick games._

—

Zsasz is certain The Girls had plenty of time to get up to the first floor. He loudly addresses Mrs. Gordon.

“AWW C’MON LADY! That was barely a scratch!”

Zsasz looks pointedly into the camera and yells.

“See, I play _hard_. I want us to have as much fun as possible, so lemme know if we’re playing _too hard_. You gotta a _safe word_ or somethin’? That gag makes you kinda hard to understand, _so ya better shout it out real loud so I can hear you!_ ”

Jim almost chuckles out loud when he hears Victor’s spiel. It’s the same speech Victor gave when they coupled for the first time. He quickly sucks in a large breath and shouts.

“ _WAFFLES!!_ ”

Jim’s heart leaps.

_I love you, Victor!_

—

Harvey halts for a second when he hears the loud shout.

_Waffles?_

He raises an eyebrow and peers back where he came.

—

Tasha and Astrid immediately close in, taking out the guards holding Gordon. At the same time Xoch, Urs and ‘Maris begin firing on Freeze. Tash rushes to Jim while her team provides cover, keeping watchful eye on Freeze and looking out for Pike. She quickly pulls an extra Colt from the thigh holster beneath her leather dress and hands it to him.

“Sorry, Gordon. It’s all I have.”

Oswald staggers back at the sound of gunfire and looks below in time to see his guards shot dead. He screams when he sees _those women_ of Victor’s run towards Jim.

_“Noooo!!!”_

Freeze pulls his freeze ray up as Firefly runs in from the exit having heard the gunfire. Mr. Freeze quickly fires a stream down below giving Oswald cover as the indignant kingpin screams.

“Army deploy! Kill them all!”

Jim runs to the staircase door out of the way of the freeze ray. He notices a bunch of men dressed like Penguin come out of the shadows with machine guns. His eyes grow wide and he brings up the borrowed Colt.

Astrid and Tasha split up, scrambling out of Freeze’s line of fire. Tasha shouts to Gordon.

“The kid said Freeze and Firefly are the _real_ threats.”

She and Astrid fire on Freeze and Firefly, while keeping a wary eye on the army. The other leathered women continue firing on Cobblepot, Pike and Fries.

Firefly grabs a few bomblets from her belt and casts them down as soon as the army turns their guns on _them_.

The army shouts in unison.

“ _Bye-bye, Pengy!_ ”

Oswald sees the _turnabout_ when all the guns aim at him and his two enforcers. His blood boils as he seethes; spittle sprays from his mouth as he shrieks in rage.

_“IVY!!!!!!!!!”_

Oswald’s body doubles over, his fists clenched tightly in front of him as his whole body shakes. He continues to wail _._

_“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”_

The army aims and begin firing at the trio above. Firefly’s bombs engulf half of them in fire but the burning men continue to rain bullets at them.

Freeze sees the army point their guns at Oswald. He quickly turns and wraps his arms around the small crime lord, snatching him off his feet. He throws Penguin down behind him, earning two bullets—one to his arm and the other to his face.

 

He quickly assesses the damage; his arm spared because of his thick armor, but his suit is quickly loosing coolant from a tear. He touches his cheek; a deep gouge slowly starts weeping sluggish thick blood. He grimaces.

_Only perk of this damnedable state._

Freeze remains low and reaches for his utility belt to deploy his freeze bombs below. He looks at Oswald who is gaping at him, flinching from the riot of bullets hitting objects nearby. He shouts over the noise.

“Stay down! Once I deploy the bombs, we leave!”

Through his shock, Oswald only manages to nod—his eyes wide, his breath labored. The back of his head radiates pain; he hit the floor, shoulders and head first. His back stings and aches from sharp joints contacting the metal flooring with Freeze's brute force. He eyes the towering iceman as he rights himself to cast several bomblets below. 

Jim watches on in disbelief at their good fortune. He lowers his gun and signals to the women near him he is going below.

—

Harvey continues making his way down the corridors that eventually lead out to a large room. That’s when he hears all the gunfire. He stops and contemplates going up to see if he is needed and if maybe mama Gordon is there instead.

Jim hustles his way down the staircase and blasts through the door.

The moment Zsasz hears gunfire, he quickly removes Mrs. Gordon’s hood and gag, keeping a watchful eye on the door.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Gordon. I didn’t know. We don’t have a lotta time. We gotta go.”

Irene nods as she continues to sob. She asks through her gasping breaths.

“Where’s James?! Is he okay?”

Victor’s brow knits with worry. He presses his lips together with concern, shaking his head.

“I dunno. I _hope_ so.”

He presses a quick peck to the side of her head.

“I give you my word I’ll find him, but we _gotta_ get you outta here first.”

He quickly releases her from her restraints, briskly rubbing her wrists and ankles after freeing them. He offers her a hand.

“You okay? Think ya can run? We gotta hustle!”

Irene shakily stands and gasps; she lets loose a whimper. Her ankle throbs in pain as soon as she puts weight on it. She’s positive she hurt it when she was struggling in her bindings before. She tries to put weight on it again and nearly falls. She gasps out.

“Oh! It’s no good, Victor. I think I hurt myself in that chair.”

Victor catches Mrs. Gordon as she buckles. He briefly considers wrapping her arm around his shoulder, but they don’t have the luxury of time. He looks down at her, holding the sides of her face.

“Lemme just apologize in advance in case I grab your tuches.”  

He quickly squats, wraps his arms around her legs beneath her haunches and hoists her over a shoulder.

“Upsy daisy. You good back there?”

Irene groans and tries to get her bearing with the sudden position. She quickly replies.

“ _Yes!_ ”

“That a girl. You’re doing great. Watch my six.”

Victor hurries to the door, opens it and steps outside.

Harvey sees movement ahead in the large room and then notices that Zsasz has mama Gordon over his shoulder. There’s blood all over her; his heart drops.

_No… I’m too late. I’m going to kill this son of a bitch!_

Fury takes hold of Harvey as he closes in; with revenge in his heart, he races over to Victor Zsasz to finally do away with the man. He yells out as soon as he gets him targeted.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT!! I’m gonna kill you!!”

Jim hears Harvey yelling and his gut clenches.

_No!!_

Jim sprints down an opposite corridor and sees the large room; Victor has his mother over a shoulder. Zsasz turns to his left, towards Harvey. Jim sees that Harvey has his gun drawn; he runs as fast as he can. Every step feels like an eternity, every footfall heavy and slow, like in a nightmare. He can feel his lungs burning as he wills himself to run faster. He zooms from behind Victor and his mother, shoving them back through the open door and into the boiler room.

Harvey fires two rounds the moment they’re shoved into the room, too late to see Jim. His eyes widen with horror.

Jim feels the first bullet go through his right chest cavity and the second hits him in his right shoulder knocking him back. He spins with the forceful impact and hits the ground; Jim’s body tumbles across the concrete floor before stopping.

Victor struggles to keep hold of Mrs. Gordon as he rights himself from the push, only to hear gunfire. He quickly turns and watches in horror as Jim falls. Zsasz thunders.

_“JIIIIMMM!!!”_

He staggers, still holding Mrs. Gordon. Victor quickly rushes to Jim and sets her down. He immediately falls to his knees and scoops the man into his arms. He shakes his head in shock at the blood pooling around Jim’s torso through his leather jacket. He mutters, growing panicked.

“ _No-no-no-no-nooo... Jim..._ ”

Victor frantically applies pressure over the holes in Jim’s jacket. His pale, ringed hand is soon covered in blood. His eyes widen with alarm as he looks down at Jim, rocking him.

Irene rushes towards her fallen son and screams as she clutches at his body.

“James!!”

Jim gasps out as blood flows and pools at his mouth. He chokes and tries his best to breathe, but no breath will come. He looks up at Victor; his will to remain conscious quickly fading. Jim tries to reach out to him but his right arm does not move. 

_He looks so scared..._

Jim does his best to speak through the blood coming up from his lungs. 

“I… (chokes)... l… lo… ve…(gasp).... y… (gasp)”

Jim can feel the warmth of the world quickly fading, his vision darkening. Victor’s face begins to blur from sight. He fights as best he can against the cold embrace of oblivion but it soon claims him. He knows no more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I had written a previous note that I had to trash... (not sure if you read it Owl but all apologies =))
> 
> When I first went into writing this third tale of the series I was going to go in and make Jim absolutely regret his involvement with Zsasz. It was going to a be a Chinese love story. (I only say that because every Chinese romance movie I saw ends in death and lament.) I wanted something brutal and dark.
> 
> The funny thing about how I write (I dont know if Owl experiences this when she writes solo), I can see the end goal and the twists and turns I would like to take to get there but when I actually sit and write, the paths I take end up being different which in turn changes the end goal ever so slightly. I know Owl sees it when we write together. I can’t even begin to guess at how many things ended up being scrapped or changed as we travel down each subject and event in chapters. 
> 
> My end goal was to kill one of our characters off by one of their hands. (Before I lured Owl back) I was going have Zsasz kill Jim or Jim kill Zsasz. I was adamant about one of these fools dying because of their attachment to each other. 
> 
> I truly believe what we have now at the end of this particular chapter blows whatever I had in mind out of the water. Of course, having Owl co-pilot, I couldn’t go through with the whole dark turn because the story we have now wouldn’t have been as rich and as intricate. Owl pumps the breaks on my runaway train of thoughts and makes me stop and really look at what’s going on. LOVE YOU GURL!!
> 
> Ok hopefully we haven’t scared loyal readers away with the ending of this chapter. Please! Please! Come back and read. Don’t you want to see Zsasz flip his shit??? I know I DO! =)
> 
> Also “Morning Star” is in reference to the Devil. The whole spiel that Jim has about pleading to whatever maybe listening then saying the part about letting the Devil have him. That’s from a song, titled the same, from Seraphim Shock. The whole vibe of the song feels right here but i think it appropriately fits one of the other coming chapters. OK OK I will stop gushing about one of my favorite bands. =)
> 
> ~FC
> 
> ______
> 
> “JIMMMMMM!!!!”
> 
> This is NOT the GorZsasz/Jisz I ordered, Deya! Jim told me he was coming back! NOT coming back AND DYING!
> 
> Seriously though. This chapter! I love it! So much promise and then…. Then…
> 
> AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!
> 
> Now please put down your goblet of my tears and HOLD ME, DEYA! :D
> 
> *cries in assassin*
> 
> Okay, all joking aside: I *do* remember Deya’s initial thoughts on this story very early on when I was merely going to act as a Zsasz “consultant” as it were—before Filthy seduced me with her delicious fanfic angst.
> 
> Uh… regarding about how I write? Umm… FC? Before you and I ever did a collab, my longest story was about 15K. Remember? Thanks to you and your influence, our stories have been 9 to 10 times that length. 
> 
> My stories are Polaroids/single snapshots or seconds-long vines. Yours are epic films. I have no twists and turns. Yours are labyrinthine. My stuff is very single-minded and specific. Your stuff is varied and colorful.
> 
> Why in the world you ever agreed to fanfic marry me, Deya, I’ll never know… Regardless, I love it and I love you, even if (okay, probably _especially_ if) you make Zsasz/me flip his/my sh!t.
> 
> }8> -o-


	22. One Animal, One Godly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zsasz and his women race against death as they speed to the hospital to save Jim. Harvey aids Victor and his team on the way there. Once at the hospital, Harvey and GCPD officers converge to apprehend the assassin.

—>  <—

Harvey watches in disbelief as Jim’s body tumbles across the floor, his freshly discharged weapon hot and heavy in his limp left hand. He drops it to the ground; his mouth opens and closes of its own volition. The muscles in his throat constrict, stifling a wail that wants to find release from deep within his body. There’s an eerie silence of shock and horror in the small industrial space following the cacophony of his intercepted vengeance.

He watches on dumbstruck as Victor rushes to Jim’s side, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Even though Harvey knows of Jim’s and Victor’s relationship, he finds himself taken aback by the anguish emanating from the pale gunman. A man that Harvey is certain deserves no mercy: a man of murder… a man possessing a black, shriveled, dead heart and a bottomless pit where his soul should be. A man… who _cares_ for his best friend, the one Harvey shot— _twice_.

Harvey swallows down the bile threatening to rise once the consequences of his actions finally dawn on him. His eyes widen once he notices all the blood spilling from Jim’s limp body. He lets loose a deep raspy wail as he shakily takes a step towards Jim.

“No no no!! JIMMM!!”

Zsasz clutches and rocks Jim, shaking his head. Having personally dealt many fatal wounds, he _knows_ what’s coming. His face contorts as he stammers with dismay.

“Don’t you _fucking_ leave me, Jim.”

He chokes up.

“Jim. _Don’t._ You _promised_ me you were coming back.”

Zsasz’s voice breaks as he cradles Jim's head.

“ _Remember?_ ”

Jim falls limp in his arms. Victor no longer hears him breathe or sees any movement in his chest. He quakes as he caresses Jim’s face and gasps.

_“Jim?”_

Zsasz slowly presses his lips to Jim’s, nudging them apart and whimpering into his passive mouth. He grimaces and his body constricts as he struggles to stifle the sobs racking his body. After a few more moments of holding and rocking Jim, Victor reverently places his lifeless body down and takes one final gaze at him. He slowly rubs a hand down his face and sucks in a huge breath, swallowing before turning to Harvey. He casts the codger a withering glare and snarls through his clenched teeth.

“I’m gonna _fuckin’_ **_kill_** _you,_ Bullock.”

Victor growls and immediately attacks him.

Harvey is so distraught he doesn’t defend himself from Victor as he tackles him back.

Irene grabs Jim’s hand and places her fingers to his neck.

“Oh please, baby! Please don’t leave me!”

She closes her eyes and hopes to feel the telltale signs of life. She feels a soft pulse followed by another but it’s weak. She opens her eyes and screams at the men.

“Victor! Stop! James is still alive! He’s still ALIVE!! Please, let’s get him to a hospital! Please!”

Irene then sees a group of women come into the large room.

Victor’s blind with rage and viciously mauling Harvey. He feels a hard jerk on his jacket collar accompanied by Tasha’s yelling.

“ _VICTOR, **STOP!** Kill him later if you have to! GORDON’S **ALIVE!** But he _ **_won’t be_ ** _if we don’t get him to the **hospital**! **NOW** , VIC!_”  
  
Victor abruptly stops. He turns to face The Girls and Mrs. Gordon before rushing to Jim and hoisting him up into his arms.

“TASH! Get the Impala! Astrid! Mrs. Gordon can’t walk! NOW!”

Xoch runs to grab Victor’s tools while Urs and 'Maris assist Astrid with Mrs. Gordon. Tash runs to and up the stairs as Victor hurries behind her with Jim in his arms.

Harvey rolls onto his knees as Alvarez and Romero run into the room.

“Captain! Oswald, Freeze and Firefly escaped! We got the army under control!”

The two stand back and gasp as they witness the blood all over Harvey’s face. Romero quickly runs to Harvey and helps him up.

Harvey stands as his nose gushes blood and motions for them to follow. He digs into his jacket and hands Romero the keys to his car. He quickly heads up the stairs as he barks out.

“Victor Zsasz has Jim and his mother. Jim’s critically injured. Victor is takin’ him to the hospital. Get a unit to Gotham General. Once Jim is in the care of the doctors… arrest Zsasz! ASAP!”

Alvarez begins calling other officers from the explosion scene to assist in the arrest. Peterson responds and says she is on the way. Romero gets in the driver’s seat of Harvey’s car. Alvarez gets in his own car and switches on the lights. Harvey gruffs through the pain of fresh wounds.

“Put on the lights! Let’s clear a path for that Impala! Hurry!”

Victor roars from the backseat once Astrid slams the door shut.

_“HIT IT, TASH!”_

The tall dark woman peals out and blasts towards Gotham General, looking back at Victor holding Jim Gordon in the rearview mirror. Before today, she _thought_ she knew Zsasz and had seen him in every state imaginable, but she was very, _very_ wrong.

She’s _never_ seen him like this: out of his mind with worry and so desperate to actually _save_ someone. While he protects his bosses for a living, it’s his job and he takes _pride_ in that. Victor’s even _loyal,_ but he has no illusions about death and how easily it comes—not to mention how _casually_ he walks away from it after seeing it dealt or dealing it himself. If anything, Victor feels he does his victims a service by putting them out of their misery and saving them from their pointless existences.

She looks to Astrid, sitting up front with her. The women exchange concerned looks, their expressions grave.

_Gordon’s not gonna make it._

Victor tightly clutches and rocks Jim, watching helplessly as he loses more blood. His anguish augments. He hasn’t felt so powerless or afraid since he was a boy and swore he _never_ would again. All he can do is look helplessly to Jim’s mother, his eyes despondent.

Irene clutches at Jim’s hand and weeps. She can see that Victor loves her boy greatly. She places a hand on his shoulder and says.

“ _Give him a reason to hang on_ , Victor. He loves you. Hearing you, maybe his spirit will fight to hold on!”

Tasha and Astrid look to one another, surprised by the woman's words. The sounds of a police car zooming ahead of them with lights and sirens startles everyone in the cab.

Astrid turns to Tasha, wide-eyed.

“Uh… Tash? Are we getting a police escort?”

Tasha shakes her head in disbelief.

“I have now ‘seen it all’.”

Tasha gives the Super Sport even more gas. She races after the law enforcement vehicles ahead, weaving in and out of slowed cars and blasting past blaring horns. The cab of the long car rocks back and forth with each lane change.

 

 

Victor swallows and nods back at Mrs. Gordon, doing his best to compose himself. He inhales a deep, ragged breath. He doesn’t consider himself much of a talker or great with words. He stammers as he caresses Jim’s face.

“Jim, my people believe we have two souls: one animal and one godly. I… never believed that... about _me_. You know the kinda man I am. The things I’ve done… _do… enjoy doin’_. I just thought I had a nefesh… an animal soul. The kind that only thinks about himself. _Nothing_ else. _No one_ else.”

He takes a breath.

“I never thought I had a neshamah, a godly soul, because of _who_ I am. _What_ I am. But since you… I don’t just think of myself anymore. I think of _you,_ Jim. _Always_. You give me _breath_. _Life…_ ”

Astrid listens on, dazed. She knew Vic had a thing for the guy, but figured he was just getting off on fucking the GCPD’s supercop.

She figured he’d move on once a new piece of ass interested him, the way he always does. He just needed a little time to get Gordon out of his system. She turns back and sees Zsasz as she never has: desperately clinging to the man like a distraught child. She quickly looks away.

Tasha follows the squad cars clearing the path, occasionally glancing at the rearview mirror to confirm the rest of the team is still behind her and to check on Zsasz. She’s been with him the longest—back when Tsunade took that bullet for him and when he let her follow him home. Zsasz actively recruited all his other women before her. Tash was skeptical and even questioned his decision. He shrugged and replied matter-of-factly.

 _“She fought fiercely, even when she didn’t stand a chance. She never stopped or showed fear, even when it was over. She’s like you, Tash. She’s a warrior. Ya just haven’t seen it yet._ ”

He was right. Tsunade became formidable with training. Tasha saw him lose several other women, but none affected him the way _she_ did. He drank and withdrew for a while, but never showed any overt emotional displays. Sure, he had his tells, but they were _subtle_.

 _But_ _this?_

She clenches her jaw.

_Victor actually loves Gordon._

Tasha takes a determined breath and races faster after the squad cars now exiting for Gotham General. She confirms Xoch, Urs and ‘Maris are following on their Yamahas and glances to Astrid. She makes a gesture like she’s holding a phone as she nods back to Mrs. Gordon. Astrid curtly nods back.

Victor can see they’re taking the exit for the hospital. He knows he hasn’t much more time. He takes a deep breath.

“I don’t remember a lot about my parents. I was young when they died. Don Falcone told me stuff, but mostly about my father. But my mother, Jim. I remember her. She was _kind…_ like _your_ mom. She uh… wanted me to grow up to be a good man. Like your mom raised _you_ to be. A man who takes care of people and protects ‘em. I… never thought I could be that kinda man… or even _wanted to_ , but...”

Irene stares at Victor wide-eyed at the mention of Falcone and his parents dying. Tears streaming down her face as she listens on.

He tries to puff out a small laugh, but sobs instead. He stokes Jim’s face.

“Crazy, right? _You_ turnin’ a putz like _me_ into the mentsch my mother always wanted me to be? You… make me wanna be better ‘cause… _you deserve better, Jim_. Your mom _needs_ you.”

His voice breaks.

 _“I need you_.”  
  
Victor holds Jim’s face. He shakes his head as hot tears spill down his cheeks.

“I’m _sorry_ I didn’t tell you sooner. I tried, but _I couldn’t_. I was _scared..._ but… _I love you, Jim… very_ _much_.”

Tasha and Astrid blink in shock, _stunned_ by Victor’s words. Tash concentrates hard as she speeds up the ER entrance, tires squealing. The rest of her team are a couple of car lengths back. She glances to Astrid (who is holding up the card) as she shouts to the backseat.

“ _Zsasz! Almost there! Go time!”_

Harvey, Alvarez and Romero flag down emergency medical team as they run into the open sliding doors. Harvey informs the doctors as they rush.

“We have a cop critically wounded in that Impala! He’s lost a lot of blood. His blood type is A positive. Two gunshot wounds! Hurry!”

Another cop car shows up.

The doctors rush out as nurses quickly follow with a gurney. They wait for the car doors to open so they can grab the wounded cop.

Tasha immediately stops the car, slamming it into park. She kicks open the car door, exits the vehicle and slams the seat forward so Victor can climb out with the detective. Astrid does the same, assisting Mrs. Gordon out of the backseat. The pale brunette places the card in her hand as she assists the older woman to the hospital entrance, nodding towards Tasha.

“Look, we know you shouldn’t, but if you _ever_ need help… _anything…_ call Tasha over there. She’s in charge when Victor isn’t.” She offers the woman a modest smile. “I’m Astrid.”

Irene can barely register what the woman says but takes the card and nods as they wait for Jim to get pulled out of the car.

Victor quickly exits the car with Jim in his arms. He whispers in Jim’s ear as he places him on the gurney.

“Don’t you fucking quit on me, Jim.”

He kisses Jim’s forehead and chokes out.

 _“I love you._ ”

The ER team begins wheeling Jim into the hospital. The emergency medical team rushes towards Jim. Two doctors usher in two nurses with intravenous needles and a heart monitor. The nurses begin to pull back Jim’s jacket and cut his shirt off. The doctors see the bullet wounds.

“He’s very weak and into hypovolemic shock! Possible pneumothorax. We will need chest tubes to drain the blood and fluids. Heavy arterial bleeding. Second bullet wound to the right shoulder.”

The doctors continue their assessment as they wheel Jim down the hall. His monitor urgently signals that Jim is getting weaker. They rush through the doors to surgery; two nurses chase after them as the sounds of a flatline can be heard beyond the closed doors.

Irene desperately hobbles after them but falls to the ground and succumbs to her grief.

Harvey reaches for her and pulls her up. He wraps his arms around Irene, his guilt overwhelming him from any words of comfort to bestow upon Jim’s mother. He sees Alvarez, Romero and Peterson ready to take Victor down. He nods as he holds Irene tight.

Irene wails into Harvey’s chest as she clings to his jacket lapels.

“Noooo, James!”

Harvey glares at Victor.

Victor watches as Jim’s quickly wheeled away, only to hear him flatline.

_“JIMMMM!!!”_

He briefly raises his hands to his head before bolting into the hospital, desperate to ascertain Jim’s condition. He manages several steps past the entrance when he’s suddenly overcome by an excruciating surge of electricity. His entire body goes rigid, making it impossible for him to move. He instantly falls to the floor.

Harvey ushers Irene to a chair and flags down other medical personnel.

“She was a captive. Look her over and tend to her wounds.”

Harvey rushes to Romero and Alvarez. They have a steady pulse of current going through Victor. Officer Peterson enters to assist them with getting Victor out of the building.

Several nurses bark at the cops.

“Hurry up and get him out of here!”

“You’re blocking medical personnel!”

The head nurse grimaces when she sees Harvey’s face.

“You’re pouring blood all over the place! You need to get looked at.”

Harvey shakes his head and gruffs at the nurse.

“Not now!”

He turns his attention to Detective Alvarez and the two female cops.

“Come on; get him the hell outta here! I’m goin’ to stay! Alvarez, handle things with the federal agents. Okay?”

Harvey glances and spots a broken phone on the ground.

_That’s Jim’s phone!_

He examines the destroyed device and notices that one of the bullets went through it. Harvey feels his gut twist with guilt. He clutches the broken phone tightly as he stares at the doors where his best friend was wheeled.

Alvarez nods and bends down to grab Victor’s guns out of his holster. The two other cops, Romero and Peterson, commence with getting Victor up by his arms and dragging him out.

“Shouldn’t we cuff him first?”

Alvarez follows and says.

“Let’s get him out of the way; cuff him outside.”

Harvey runs a hand through his hair as the weight of what he’s done finally settles upon him. He begins to break down as the memory of Jim’s birthday enters his mind.

 _Jim beams him a large smile and laughs. The birthday song reaches a deafening crescendo as it ends. Everyone claps and urges Jim to blow out the candles. The detective gets them all in one breath; the bar erupts in a roar of cheers and whistles._  
  
_Harvey reaches for two shots of whiskey and hands one to Jim._  
  
_“Here’s to a successful year stayin’ alive. Down da the hatch, Jimbo!”_  
  
_The detective raises his glass and adds._  
  
_“Here’s to another year—hopefully.”_

Harvey’s shoulders slump as tears run down his face.

Tasha and Astrid watch on as Victor is tased.

“Well, _that_ didn’t last long, did it?”

As Demaris, Ursula and Xochitl approach, Tasha addresses them over a shoulder.

“They’ve tased Victor and are taking him into custody. He’s not cuffed, but they took his Sigs. You see any other units coming?”

“Nope.”

“Good. Let the cops do the heavy lifting. _Literally_. Victor’s hard as hell to carry.”  
  
The team replies in unison.

_“No shit!”_

They all take their positions. They’ll shoot out a tire from the police vehicles when they leave. Until then, they wait for the cops get Victor closer. Fortunately, there aren’t more cops and none of them have their weapons drawn.

“Astrid, watch him. Those cops are gonna have _hell_ to pay.”

The pale brunette wryly responds.

_“We all are.”_

Victor slowly comes to. He sees the floor tiles passing beneath him and feels his feet dragging along them. He glances up and can see they’re only a few feet away from the sliding door entrance. He glances from side to side and only sees two cops hoisting him by his arms.

Zsasz quickly rotates his shoulders upwards and outwards, violently twisting his upper body. He elbows and punches the cops to wrestle himself from their grip, furiously thrashing and kicking his legs to wrench himself free. Victor quickly scrambles to his feet.  
  
Romero and Peterson go flying. Peterson slides across the floor and hits her head against the nurses’ station. The head nurse stands and quickly comes around to see if she is okay. Romero staggers back having received an elbow to her chin but soon finds her footing. Alvarez shoots Victor again with the taser, but he isn’t going down as easily. Romero and Peterson quickly approach.

Victor’s body remains rigid, but he’s still standing, barely—supported by a nearby corner and slowly sliding down it. He tries to keep his wits about him, knowing it’s only a matter of time before the second current stops.

Astrid and Tasha quickly enter with their guns drawn, readied on the cops. Xochitl follows behind them and heads straight for the detective who’s reaching for another taser cartridge. She rapidly approaches with her P226 on him.

“How ‘bout I take those off your hands?”

The cops and the detective stand back, not wanting to have a shootout in the hospital. Harvey sees what’s happening as a nurse tries tending to his nose with a wad of gauze. He quickly approaches but he knows the women have them outgunned and outmanned.

Astrid and Tasha still have their weapons on the cops. Tasha shouts loudly.

“C’mon Vic! LET’S _GO!_ ”

Victor doesn’t move. He looks to the doors where they took Jim back and, despite his better judgment, heads straight for them. Xochitl’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“Dammit, Victor! _Fuck you!”_

She shakes her head, quickly replaces the taser cartridge and tases Victor to save him from himself. He immediately falls to the floor.

The three women keep their guns on the cops while Ursula and Demaris walk in with their guns drawn. They point their weapons and holler at two men in scrubs.

“You two! Over here! _Now!_ ”

The men raise their hands and warily walk forward as the women begin backing out of the entrance.

Xochitl has finally gotten Victor down and out, for a little while anyway. Urs and ‘Maris instruct the men to pick Victor up while Tash and Astrid continue keeping watch on law enforcement.

“Better hustle, gentlemen! You saw what he did to those cops.”

Tash tosses Xoch the keys to the Impala. She runs to the trunk, quickly opens it and yanks out everything Victor can use for a weapon. Tasha hurries behind her to assist. She grabs their heavy leather wrist and ankle restraints before quickly spreading their heavy tarp in the trunk. Xochitl’s eyes widen at the sight of the cattle prod.

_This should keep his ass down._

Urs and ‘Maris instruct the men in scrubs.

“Toss him in there face down.”

Once the men hoist Victor into the trunk, Xochitl grabs the cattle prod and gives Victor a little extra juice. The men watch on in stunned silence as the women quickly secure Zsasz’s hands and feet in the restraints.

The women exchange glances, shrug and nod. Urs and ‘Maris look to Xoch.

“Probably a good idea. You’d better have that thing ready when we open the trunk."

Tasha shakes her head and slams the trunk closed while everyone hurries back to the car and their bikes.

“Don’t bother. Be grateful he’s still down, because _this_ …” She yanks the cattle prod from Xoch’s hand and points it at her. “...Would only make him angrier.” She tosses the instrument into the backseat of Victor’s Chevy. “Get the stun guns and _our_ tasers the _second_ we get back. Make sure you have plenty of cartridges ready. Do we still have injectable midazolam? We’re going to need it. If not, call that hot Army medic… _Glowski, right?_ She’ll get us some or something comparable.”

Xochitl’s eyes widen before absently nodding in agreement. Tasha turns back to the men in scrubs.

“Thank you, gentlemen. We’ll take it from here.”

The leathered women shoot out a tire from each of the GCPD vehicles and speed away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case y’all forgot: I’m a gentile. I did the best I could in my research, but had no available subject matter expert to consult or provide guidance for this content. If I failed to correctly address Jewish beliefs regarding the soul, please accept my humblest apologies and help a goy fix it! 
> 
> I struggled during the RP for this chapter. The emotions ran so high in that car on the way to the hospital. I really wanted Victor (a man who struggles to experience/understand/identify/express emotion) to lay himself bare and reveal some truths about himself: his personal history, his fears and his feelings about Jim. I also wanted him to _acutely_ feel the anguish, fear, horror and pain of death he instills in others (especially given how eagerly he deals it and blithely he dismisses it).
> 
> It surprises me how emotionally difficult I _still_ find this chapter, despite knowing the content inside and out, having written and fiddled with it since we wrote it a few months back. It’s like Deya said in her endnotes for chapter 12: we put a lot of ourselves into these characters and I gotta say, this one gets me _every_ phuccing time I read it. I find this chapter, and the one that follows, are the two that proved the most difficult for me emotionally and artistically (even _more_ than the infamous chapter 12). 
> 
> Victor’s faced challenge after challenge throughout this story. However, this chapter really lays this arrogant, ruthless, deadly and notorious man bare… in front of Jim’s and Victor’s closest family, friends and colleagues (up to and including Gotham’s finest).
> 
> I think we all agree our favorite homicidal maniac and sadist is capable of deep, heartfelt emotion and fierce loyalty. (For anyone who disagrees, I suggest you take another look at Gotham 4x11. Ugh! Zsasz’s reaction to Carmine Falcone’s death in that ep ‘bout put _me_ in the ground, too.) How would (the) Victor (in our fic) react in this situation? What would The Girls do? They’re fiercely loyal to him and I think would extend that loyalty to anyone Victor deemed “worthy” of that loyalty. 
> 
> I mean _really now._ The lengths Victor goes through to save Jim, giving _zero_ f*cks about who's watching or being apprehended? (As far as I'm concerned, all his behavior in this chapter makes it painfully obvious he loves Jim Gordon—without having to drop the "l" word.)
> 
> }8> -o-
> 
> ______
> 
> So my job here was minimal at best. I piloted Harvey, the cops, medical staff and Irene. But mostly I just sat back and kicked my feet up while eating popcorn and reading all this juicy delicious anguish. Its so yummy. The next chapter is even more amazing and delectable! I think I read this and the next chapter a gagillion times!
> 
> *eats more popcorn and awaits the next chapter*
> 
> ~FC


	23. The Golem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zsasz finds himself whisked away against his will after witnessing Jim’s untimely demise. Victor’s female team decides to take matters into their own hands when he leaves them no choice.

—>z<—

Victor opens his eyes to a loud slam, followed by the sound of gunfire and squealing tires. It’s pitch dark. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s lying face down with bound hands and legs. His Impala’s engine roars and lurches forward, rolling him around as it speeds off.

_What the fuck?_

He struggles to free himself but can tell by the way he’s bound The Girls put him in the heavy leather restraints—the ones he _had to have_ because there was absolutely _no_ getting out of them. He knows because he _personally_ tested them. He now regrets the decision. Zsasz violently thrashes and thunders.

“TAAAAAAAAAASH!!!”

He slams his feet inside the trunk, punctuating each word he shouts.

“GET. ME. THE. **_FUCK_** _. OUTTA HERE!_ **_NOW!!! TAAAAASH!!!_** ”

He struggles and shouts more, banging louder when the car doesn’t slow or stop, _enraged_. He only stops when there’s a turn, brake or rapid acceleration. That’s when he rolls around the huge trunk, in hopes of finding something, _anything_ to free himself. He _knows_ he left stuff behind when they got to the warehouse.

Zsasz immediately recalls Jim falling after being shot and the blood pooling around his chest. He can still see his hand covered in Jim’s blood as he frantically tried to stop the bleeding. Victor rubs his fingers on his palms and can feel Jim’s blood (once warm and thick) now cool and growing tacky on his hands and sticky beneath his rings.

He can still see the blood pouring from Jim’s mouth as he struggled to speak before slipping into unconsciousness.

_“I…. l… lo… ve... y…”_

Victor’s body buckles. He has no idea how long he’s been in the trunk. All he knows is he _has_ to find out what happened to Jim. Zsasz can still hear the machines when he flatlined. Victor furiously stomps against the trunk and roars.

“TASHA! _ASTRID!_ **GET ME THE** **_FUCK_ ** **OUT OF HER** **E!** XOCH! ‘MARIS?! URRRSULAAAA!!! SOME **FUCKING** BODY **GET ME OUTTA THIS** **_FUCKING_ ** **TRUNK**!!!”

After thrashing and shouting for several long minutes, he presses his lips together and licks them. That’s when he tastes Jim’s blood.

He pictures the light in Jim’s azure eyes dwindle to a glimmer before fading altogether. He wails as he recalls Jim going limp in his arms and kissing his passive mouth… his lips unresponsive.  
  
He violently shakes his head and kicks more.

Eventually, the Impala comes to stop and the engine shuts off. He can hear The Girls’ muffled voices, certain they’ll soon let him out. He waits for what seems like ages. _Nothing._ He becomes incensed again—stomping and raging even _more_.

 _“I’M_ **_STILL_ ** _IN HERE! QUIT_ **_DICKIN’_ ** _ME AROUND AND GET ME THE_ **_FUCK_ ** _OUTTA HERE!! URS! ‘MARIS?! XOCH!!!_ **_I KNOW YOU CAN FUCKING HEAR ME_** _ **!!!”**_

Zsasz tries taking advantage of his flexibility to work his shoulders down far enough to shimmy his ass through his bound hands. He manages to get further than he ever has before. He frantically struggles to make more progress, hoping he can get his legs all the way through. It’ll be far easier to kick with his hands in front of him.

Suddenly, the trunk lid opens. The Girls all stand around looking down at him and exchanging glances. He snarls.

“It’s _about_ **_fucking_** _time!_ Tash! Get me _outta_ these things!”

Tasha shakes her head, her reply stern.

“Victor. I _will—but_ _only_ if you give me your word that you’ll settle down.”

His eyes bulge with rage and he bangs his feet against the trunk.

“I _AM_ FUCKING SETTLED D—”

The Girls all descend and hold stun guns on him. That’s when he sees Xochitl with _their_ taser.

“XOCH! DON’T YOU _FUCKING_ DARE—”

His body goes rigid with shooting electricity _—again_.

He eventually comes to and finds himself encased in heavy fabric. He hears muffled voices as they drag him in the tarp. One voice is familiar, but it takes him a moment to place the woman’s distinct cadence.

“With _that_ kind of gunshot wound? _Maybe_ a collapsed lung. Barring any other injuries? _Best_ case scenario? A week.”

_Why the fuck did they call Glowski?_

Zsasz’s eyes widen in panic and he starts struggling again, only to feel himself slowly drift and melt. Time stretches and everything becomes slower… quieter… duller and more distant. He tries to yell, but all he can do is murmur.

“What the fuck did you…”

Zsasz gradually opens his eyes when he feels himself being tousled back and forth. He looks up and slowly blinks at Tasha, struggling to remember he’s still angry with her.

_Why can’t I get up?_

He finally realizes he’s bound again—this time, face up on the table in his basement. He wants to struggle, but can’t find the energy or will. He tries reaching for Tasha, but his wrists are in restraints. All he can manage is to helplessly look up at her and softly plead.

“Tash… You _gotta_ let me outta here… Jim… I gotta know if he’s okay.”

The dark stunner looks down and presses her lips together. She holds her hand to his face.

“Victor, he’s probably still in surgery. I _promise_ I’ll tell you the moment we know something.”

He shakes his head.

“But he could still… I need my phone. He could call.”  
  
She reaches into his jacket and pulls it out. She flips it open and shows him he has no missed calls from Jim. Tasha finds Jim’s texts and glances at the most recent one (received a week ago). She presses her lips together and briefly looks away before showing it to him.

Victor struggles to lift his head, concentrating hard. He stares at the text Jim sent before they parted ways last Friday and remembers how his eyes blurred the first time he read it. It’s the _only_ fucking thing (besides Jim’s promise to return) that has gotten him through the past hellish week. Hot tears spill down his face and his head falls back to the table in defeat. He gazes up at her and swallows.

“He _promised_ he was coming back, Tash.”

The woman briefly looks away and soberly nods back, softly replying as she wipes his face.

“I know. Say, why don’t we get you cleaned up?”

He raises his hands in his binds and struggles to look down at the hand she’s holding—the one covered in Jim’s dried blood. He shakes his head.

 _“No,_ Tash. _”_

She curtly nods back and lovingly rubs her thumb back and forth on his cheek. She leans down and presses a lingering kiss to his forehead.

“Okay. How ‘bout something to eat then?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Tasha’s face turns grave and she looks over her shoulder. He lolls his head to the side to see The Girls looking on.

—

_Victor rushes to scoop Jim up after he falls lifelessly to the floor. He desperately applies pressure to Jim’s bleeding as his life ebbs away. He peers into the azure eyes gazing up at him, plaintive and rueful. Jim coughs up a trail of blood._

_“I lo… love you... Vic... How... could you...?”_

_Zsasz shakes his head in confusion as he cradles and rocks Jim. When he reaches to stroke Jim’s face, he finds his Sig in his hand. He blinks in shock and soon hears Bullock screaming at him. He looks up and finds the codger has his Glock readied on him._

_“Hold it right there, you disgustin’ piece of shit! I shoulda_ **_killed you_ ** _when I had the chance! Don’t you fuckin’_ **_touch_ ** _him!”_

 _Victor shakes his head and hears a woman sobbing. He turns to see Mrs. Gordon sitting beside him with her face in her hands._ _A couple of her fingers are twisted and broken_ _. When she raises her face to look up at him, her nose is badly broken and blood gushes from it. She gazes at him through rapidly swelling eyes,_ _wailing through her tears_ _._

 _“Why_ _,_ _Victor? I welcomed you into my home_ — _my **heart**. _ _I_ **_trusted_ ** _you. James loves you **so** much. **How could you** _ _do this, Victor?_ _”_

_Victor blinks and shakes his head._

_“I… didn’t, Mrs. Gordon. I…”_  
_  
_ _Zsasz feels Jim’s body being taken from his arms. He looks up and sees_ **_him_** : Excelsior 865, _in that navy suit he wore when he took Jim to dinner. The man effortlessly hoists Jim up and stands, sneering down at him._

 _“I_ **_do_ ** _know Jim Gordon and I’m taking him away from all this—from_ **_you_** _. **You don’t deserve him.** You only bring **pain** _ _and **death**_ _. It’s a mercy your parents died. Imagine what your mother would think of you. You’re an **animal**. A_ _ **monster!**_ _”_

 _He watches in dismay as Ricci_ _carries Jim away_ _with Mrs. Gordon in tow. He feels himself being cuffed and yanked to his feet._

 _“Okay, matzah balls. You know the drill. If it_ _was my call_ _, I’d shoot your ass right_ _here, right_ _now, you fuckin’ lowlife_ _goon_ _. I_ _dunno_ _why the_ ** _fuck_** _Jim let a_ ** _disgustin’_** _sack o’_ ** _shit_** _like **you** even _**_touch_** _him!”_

_Bullock leads him up the stairs to the ground floor of the warehouse and marches him to a squad car. He sees The Girls mounting their Yamahas or heading for the Impala. Tasha turns and shouts back at him._

_“Don’t worry about a thing, Victor. We have it all squared away.”_  
_  
_ _She walks to the passenger side of his Chevy. Zsasz blinks and notices the driver side door is open. Freeze is standing_ _inside it_ _. The iceman leans against_ _his Super Sport,_ _shooing him away with a big smirk on his face. Zsasz feels Bullock forcing him into the squad car_ _, ensuring he bangs his head as he shoves him inside_.      

—

Victor suddenly bolts upright, only to be held back by restraints. Xochitl walks up, her face ponderous. Just as he begins to speak, she presses her lips together and shakes her head as she holds up his phone. She looks down at him, her expression and tone surprisingly thoughtful.

“It hasn’t been that long. He’s probably in ICU by now. We tried callin’ the hospital." She shrugs. "I even took a pass by to check it out, but it’s buttoned up tight. You can’t even get into the hospital unless you’re bein’ admitted or work there. To top it off, they’re only releasin’ information about Gordon to law enforcement and immediate family. There’s a list. We gotta wait. But if the GCPD is there, he probably is too.”

He presses his lips together and acquiesces. She looks tentatively at him.

“Zsasz, you _really_ gotta eat. Promise me you won’t pull any stupid shit. I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I really _don’t_ wanna have to tase your ass again.”

He clenches his jaw and nods in agreement. The mohawked woman warily releases him from his restraints. He lies perfectly still and studies every last move she makes, knowing she (like Tasha) won’t hesitate to drop him—unlike the other girls. Once he rises from the table, he scans his basement.  
  
_They took all my fucking tools. My meathooks too. The clock isn’t even in here._

As he heads for the door, he reaches for his combat knife and karambit.

“Don’t bother. We _took_ ‘em. _All_ of ‘em, Victor. Like I said. Just _don’t_.”

He briefly stops and looks back at her over a shoulder. When he hits the head, he realizes they took his suspenders and the laces out of his boots, as well as everything from his basement half bath but toilet paper, soap and a hand towel.

After relieving himself, he looks in the mirror, struck by the bloody handprint on top of his head and Jim’s dried blood on the side of his mouth.

He reaches to touch it and finds his pale hand darkened to a rich garnet. He peers down at his palms and opens them, spreading his fingers. Jim’s dried blood leaves tiny flecks in the sink, causing slivers of his pale flesh to peek through. Victor starts the faucet and reaches for the soap, but stops. He can’t bring himself to wash his hands because it’s all he has left of Jim. He turns off the faucet and walks out.  
  
Xochitl waits for him outside, glancing at his face and hands before nodding him upstairs. The kitchen is busy with activity. The moment he walks in, Astrid shoots him a concerned look, immediately pours a cup of lapsang souchong and hands it to him.

He silently sips as he watches her crack, season and beat eggs together to make him a huge vegetable and cheese omelette. She dishes it up with a heaping pile of fried potatoes and onions. The brunette also toasts him a bagel with a schmear.

He doesn’t realize how ravenous he is until he starts eating. He wolfs down his food, standing in the kitchen. He even polishes off the remaining potatoes in the pan. Tasha, Ursula and Demaris hang out in the main seating area, occasionally glancing at him.

Just as he walks his plate to the sink to wash, he spies the keys to Maris’ Yamaha on the counter. He grabs them and sprints down the corridor, bolting for the door. Just as he reaches for the door handle, he hears Xochitl.

“Dammit, Victor. Fuck you!”

He’s suddenly overcome by a painful current of electricity and instantly falls to the floor.

—

Zsasz wakes strapped to the table again. At least this time, they made things a little more comfortable for him and put a roll under his neck. Astrid’s looking down at him. He growls, low and measured.

“Gimme my phone.”

She lifts his phone to prove he has no missed calls or texts from Jim.

“I didn’t stutter, Astrid.” He snarls. “I said give me my _fucking_ phone.”

She presses her eyes and lips together.

“I’ll give it to you _only_ if you shower and eat without pulling any crazy shit.”  
  
He struggles in his bindings and barks.

“I’m a _grown ass man_ and I don’t need _you_ tellin’ _me_ what the _fuck_ to do!”

She shakes her head and walks away. The moment he hears the basement door open, he shouts after her, growing panicked.

“Astrid! ... _Wait_.”

He falls back defeated on the table.

“Fine. I _won’t_.”

Victor’s surprised at how meek and broken he sounds.

“You won’t what?”  
  
He squeezes his eyes and lips shut with frustration, grumbling.

“Pull any crazy shit.”

Victor hears the door close and her footsteps return. She looks down at him with an expression she’s never given him before and it makes his eyes sting. He briefly looks away. When she leans down to kiss his cheek and release him from his restraints, her long, straight hair brushes his face.

They make their way upstairs and head for his quarters. When he walks to his bed, he reaches for his holster but notices it sitting on his dresser without his Sigs. Astrid clears her throat.

“We know you don’t like anyone touching it, but the cops took your Sigs when they tried to take you into custody. We didn’t think you’d—”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

Zsasz absently begins undressing, starting with his jacket and vest—both caked with Jim’s blood. He can _smell_ _it_. Everything that happened in the warehouse comes flooding back and he feels himself losing his shit again. He takes a deep breath before crouching to unlace his boots, only to be reminded The Girls took them.

Victor suddenly remembers the night Jim found him drunk in his apartment and can still hear his voice.

_“You always do this…"_

_“Do what?”_

_“You taking your pants off before your boots.”_

_“You make it hard to concentrate.”_

Victor rubs down his face in response to the pangs in his chest. He tugs off his boots and socks. When he removes his remaining clothes, he’s surprised by how badly he stinks. He heads for his bathroom.

_They took everything outta here too._

He starts and enters the shower. He vacantly stares at the faint swirling red of Jim’s blood circle the drain and wash away. Victor stands there for some time before becoming vaguely aware of the shower door opening and closing.

He can tell by the scratchy washcloth vigorously scrubbing at his head, neck and shoulders that it’s Astrid. Tasha’s rhythm is much slower and she makes wider circles. Urs and Maris’ fall somewhere in between. They’re always together and they wipe either up and down or from side to side.

_None of them are anything like Jim._

She makes quick work of his backside, all the way down to his ankles and feet. Even with his eyes closed, he knows she’s now in front of him. She washes his face, taking care around his lumps before making her way to his neck. When she reaches for his wrist, he remembers Jim’s blood and goes rigid. She stops.

“I’ll leave that to you then.”  
  
He nods, never opening his eyes. He doesn’t want to see her look at him the way she did in the basement. She releases his hand and scrubs his neck and chest. He _tries_ not to think of the last time he and Jim showered together, but fails miserably.

Astrid makes her way to his abs and obliques but the instant she reaches for his groin, he pictures Jim smiling and taking him into his hand last week when they showered together the morning before they parted ways. Victor immediately opens his eyes and grabs her wrist. He peers down at her chestnut eyes and pale skin, so much like his own. She looks down and places the washcloth in his other hand before leaving him.

“I’ll let you finish.”

He washes and continues thinking of Jim in the shower of his apartment, at that seedy little motel and at his mother’s house. As he slowly washes his hands, he wonders how Jim is and hopes to hear something soon. The cascading water rinses away his silent tears along with Jim’s blood.

After showering, he dries and brushes his teeth. He slips on some lightweight black sweatpants so Xoch won’t bitch. Astrid meets him outside his quarters with a towel wrapped around her head. When they arrive at the kitchen, everyone’s grabbing their Vietnamese food and comments on how much better his bruising looks.

He fixes his huge bowl of phở with steak, brisket and meatballs as he customarily does: with plenty of lime, basil, bean sprouts, cilantro, and jalapeños. He pours himself a cup of tea from the cast iron teapot with the dragon and phoenix and is pleased to discover it’s the gyokuro. His mood gradually lightens as he eats with The Girls.

As usual, Urs and ‘Maris leave him plenty to finish. When Zsasz grabs Ursula’s chopsticks and fishes out her lemongrass beef with vermicelli, he thinks of the night he ate with Jim on his couch after the attack on Penguin’s club. In little time, the events of the warehouse come flooding back. He pokes inside the carryout box and asks without bothering to look up.

“So when do I get my phone back?”  
  
Everybody suddenly goes quiet and looks nervously to one another. Astrid hands it to him and he flips it open. He’s shocked to discover it’s already late Sunday afternoon.

_Astrid was right. Nothing from Jim, but plenty from the guys. Looks like Tash handled it all._

“How did you pay ‘em?”  
  
“Penguin still had some very lucrative hauls despite everything that happened Thursday. We’re lucky Penn was so efficient because everyone got paid before the explosion. We never gave Penguin what we collected that night since you had us delay delivery until after _…._ ” She briefly stops and looks down. “I used it to pay the men. Everyone said they’d come back if we had anything else for them but, thanks to Penguin, we have nothing. You want me to send them Wendy’s way?”

“Not sure yet. Any sign of Penguin?”  
  
Ursula and Demaris reply together.

“No trace of him. No Freeze or Firefly either.”

“What about Pepper? We know if she’s okay?”

Tasha shakes her head.

“No, Victor. Nothing.”

“She uh…” He looks down briefly and nods as he pokes around in the takeout box. “She’s a sweet kid—and smarter than Penguin _ever_ gave her credit for.” He shakes his head and puffs out a humorless chuckle. “I’m sure she’ll figure it out.”

He tries to keep his tone nonchalant, but can’t keep from glancing up.

“Hospital security?”  
  
They all shake their heads. He nods as he picks out more food.

“My keys aren’t in my room.”

His voice grows dark.

“ _Where_ _the fuck_ _are they?_ ”  
  
Astrid replies warily.

“Victor, we don’t think you should—”

He jumps out of his seat and flings the takeout and chopsticks. He sucks in a huge breath and begins pacing wildly, his body roiling with frustration. Just as he starts to shout, he notices all The Girls staring at him and he stops himself. He rubs his hands down his face and puffs out a huge sigh as he looks to the ceiling.

“I just gotta... get _outta_ here— _at least_ to go outside. I’ll stay like _this!_ ”

He sweeps a hand over his exposed torso, pointing out his broken skin from the taser hooks and all the stun gun marks, glaring wide-eyed at the women before nodding towards Xoch.

“You know, to make things even _easier for her!_ ”

He tilts his head and slowly blinks before returning a hard stare and squared jaw to Astrid and Tasha.

The two women exchange glances before Tasha reluctantly nods. Xoch sprints off and returns with his boots and socks— _and their taser_. The two silently walk outside and head for the Impala. She warily looks at him before unlocking the driver side door. Victor pulls the front seat forward. Jim’s blood is still visible in the car, despite the black interior. He can also see the voided areas his legs left behind.

He climbs in and seats himself in the exact same place he sat on the way to the hospital, fingering Jim’s blood. Xochitl leans against his open car door with her arms and legs crossed at the ankle, avoiding his gaze to give him some semblance of privacy. When she reaches inside her shirt pocket for her Zippo and Lucky Strikes, he nods at them.

“I thought you quit.”

She taps out a smoke, flicks open her Zippo, lights up and takes a long drag as she tucks everything back into her pocket. She inhales the smoke that seeps from her mouth up her nostrils, nodding back at him.

“I _did—_ and then your _dumb_ ass stressed me _the fuck_ out.”

She puffs out the smoke and shrugs.

“Besides, they make drinking _so much better_." Xoch takes another quick drag while she points a finger at him. "Speaking of, don’t even _think_ about stealin’ my Luckies like you _used to_.”

He puffs out a mirthless snort, recalling the times he silently drank and smoked with her after Tsunade’s death. He remembers rocking Jim in his arms on the way to Gotham General.  

_“I’m… **sorry** I didn’t tell you earlier. I tried, but… **I couldn’t.** I was… **scared** … but… **I love you, Jim… very much.** ”_

Victor tightly presses his eyes shut in response to the welling in them and the unbearable ache in his body. He rubs his hands down his face when he feels it contort. He swallows loudly as he looks up and exhales a ragged breath.

“Xoch... I _gotta know_ if he’s okay.”  
  
She clenches her jaw and takes another drag before puffing out a smoky reply.

“I know, Victor. We’re _trying_ to find out.”

“He needs me.”

She briefly looks to the side, before squatting to sit on the running board. She reaches to rub his left calf above his boot.

“I know he does, but _we_ need you too. _I need you, dumbass_.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs. “Besides, who the fuck am I gonna fight with if you get your ass locked up behind some crazy shit?”

He offers a weak smile.

“There’s always Wendy.”  
  
She bumps her shoulder against his knee.  

“True, but you’re a _far bigger_ pain in my ass than he is.” She shakes her head. “He couldn’t possibly compete with you no matter _how hard_ he tried and he _would_ too. What _is it_ with you two, anyway? Is it some weird dick thing?”

Victor barely listens. All he can do is think of Jim. When he feels that stinging again, he rubs his lips with his middle and ring fingers.

“I wanna go to Gotham General… _just_ to see.”

She presses her lips together and stares back with eyes as dark as his own, her voice stern.

“I’ll get you there…” She takes another long drag and points at him, “...but _only_ if you do what I say and _promise_ not to be a dickhead.”

He nods his head and peers down at Jim’s blood on the seat, swallowing as a tear rolls down his cheek. He looks down at her with doleful eyes and his voice breaks a little.

“Don’t let ‘em wash the Impala.”

She blinks and turns away, finding it hard to see Zsasz this way. Tasha and Astrid already warned her and she thought she was ready, but _nothing_ could prepare her for this. She’s _never_ seen him so lost… worried... _heartbroken._

Even though Tasha’s second-in-command and Zsasz fucks Urs and ‘Maris more than Astrid or Tasha (or _used to_ ), Xoch spends more time with him than _any_ of them. Even if she miraculously woke up interested in dick (and by the way everyone talks, Victor has one worth the interest), he’s like a brother to her. She’d never _dream_ of fucking him.

_Being him? Maybe. But fucking him? Never._

She presses her lips together and nods as she elbows his leg.

“I won’t. C’mon. Let’s go.”

She takes a final drag before tossing her spent cigarette to the ground and snuffing it out with her black studded Doc. Before they walk back, she stuffs the tracker she noticed on the Impala into her pocket.

About a half hour later and some serious negotiation with Tasha, they prepare to leave. Xochitl and Victor will both ride her Kawasaki, wearing riding jackets and helmets (to decrease the likelihood of being identified). She’ll be behind him with the taser. Urs and ‘Maris will follow with Urs’ Yamaha and the Mustang in case Victor feels compelled to be a dickhead. Before he mounts Xoch’s classic cruiser, she gives him a stern look.

“Before we go, lemme just say this _one_ thing: as much as it pains me to admit this, I fucking love you, Victor. But if you pull _any_ boneheaded shit and make me use this fucking thing (holding up the taser) while we’re on my Vulcan— _and you fuck up my shit?_ Just don’t be surprised if I use my P226 on your sorry ass.”

It feels great to get out and go for a ride. As they close in on Gotham General, he sees the huge GCPD presence The Girls talked about—up to and including Bullock with a taped-up face. He suddenly remembers Jim’s words to him the last night they spent together.

_“Victor, I can get over you hurting me when it’s business. But not Harvey, not ever. I don’t think I can forgive you if you ever hurt him again. Please, understand this.”_

Before circling back home, Victor presses his lips together with worry. He hopes Jim’s okay and (if he is), that he’ll forgive him.

—

Because Victor didn’t act like a dickhead during their Gotham General drive-by, they ride around for awhile and even return to the Vietnamese restaurant for some sweets: three color dessert, glutinous rice dumpling and sweet corn pudding. He and Xoch take advantage of the fact they’re with Urs and ‘Maris and get extra dessert. Victor also enjoys a large glass of pennywort juice.

As the next few days progress, he manages to remain calm enough to gain a _few_ more privileges—none of which include his keys or privacy. He hangs out and sleeps in his quarters, but he’s never left _completely_ alone. Someone’s always close by. Xochitl’s usually the one who usually gets night shift.

“Don’t try seducing me or jackin’ off when I’m in here with you, Zsasz. I hear enough _about_ your dick as it is. I don’t wanna know anymore about it than I already do.”

As more time passes with no word from or about Jim, Victor grows increasingly anxious and finds it more challenging to maintain his composure. The fact he no longer has work to distract him only makes matters worse. He thinks endlessly about Jim, wondering if he’s dead or alive, or if he’ll forgive him for beating up Bullock and why he hasn’t reached out yet.

He constantly checks his phone and stares at Jim’s final text. He finally sends one of his own.

_“thinking of you”_

He stares at the phone waiting for a response, checking it throughout the day and the following one.

He never receives one.

Recalling what Glowski said about a week, he works hard to reach that milestone before reaching out again. He almost makes it, but falls a day short. He and Xochitl try a few more passes at the hospital, but the GCPD’s still there in full force.

He sends another text.

_“don’t keep me waiting forever”_

When he receives no response, he tries calling. All he gets is voicemail.

“Jim… it’s me. I uh… I hope you’re okay. Let me know… _please_.”

The next night, Xochitl’s in his room with him and she drifts off to sleep. It’s the first opportunity since his house arrest to search for his stashed knives without detection. He reaches behind his headboard and finds a harpoon knife, a gut hook and smaller talon that The Girls overlooked when they swept his room for weapons.

He sends another text.

_“you ok?”_

It grows harder to wait for a response, so he calls again.

No answer.

Victor quietly talks into the phone as Xochitl sleeps—his tone worried, _agitated_.

“I haven’t heard from you. I hope you’re alright. I uh… miss you. _I love you, Jim_.”

The next evening, he heads to Frankie’s for a slice with Xoch, Urs and ‘Maris. They always get the honors of chaperoning him whenever they go out since they have a system. Despite Victor’s endless preoccupation with Jim, he resists the temptation to stare at his phone during dinner and pulls off fairly normal interaction without raising any suspicion.

—

About an hour later, Victor’s in an alley a half block from Frankie’s with a fresh corpse at his feet. The dead man has a slit throat, multiple stab wounds to the face and neck—and Victor’s harpoon knife lodged in his neck, severing his subclavian artery.

The man Victor just headbutted struggles to remain standing. Zsasz holds him by the jacket collar as he retracts the gut point sticking out of the man’s lower abdomen. The moment he prepares to grab the man's skin to peel back, he hears an all too familiar mantra.

“Dammit Victor! Fuck you!”

Within the hour, he’s back in his basement, groggy and struggling to piece together what happened earlier. All he can remember is those two guys in the next booth at Frankie’s, setting him off with their comments about The Girls.

Zsasz tries to take comfort in the fact The Girls didn’t strap him to his table or chair and let him keep his phone this time, even if they took his knives and his boot laces again. (They didn't let him have his suspenders or let him wear a belt.) He tries sending another text.

_“you promised me”_

Not long after, he calls and chokes out another voice message.

“Jim… Is it because of Bullock?  I remember what you said… about not forgiving me. I just… I thought he _killed_ you. I-I-I… couldn’t _stop_ myself.”

His voice breaks.

 _“I’m sorry. Really.”_  
  
He sobs.

“Jim _please_ forgive me. I _love_ you and I dunno how to… I just can’t… _be_ without you anymore. _Remember?_ ”

—

_Victor mindlessly roams Gotham’s darkened streets killing victim after victim: men, women and children. He hears nothing… feels nothing… neither the sounds of their screaming, nor the warmth of their blood. He doesn’t even experience the joy that comes from their suffering or the satisfaction that comes with their deaths._

_He shoots a man and his body falls to the ground. When he peers down at his victim, he realizes it’s Jim._

_That’s when Zsasz finally feels something: **horror**. He runs to Jim and falls to his knees. Victor anxiously tries reaching for the man, but his arms no longer work. It’s as if they’ve grown lifeless. Immovable. No matter how hard he wills himself to reach out, he can’t. _

_He peers down at his arms, illuminated by the streetlight overhead. The first thing he notices are his hands. Even with the poor lighting, they appear grey. He has no gloves and his rings are gone._

_They have no skin, muscle, sinew or bone._

_They’re like clay._

_Every square inch of his arms is riddled with tallies._

_He looks down to the rest of his body._

_The same._

_He hears a familiar giggle and voice._

_“Hello, old friend._ _Did you_ **_honestly_ ** _think_ _you’d seen the last of me?”_

_The kingpin tsks._

_“Oh, no. You will **never** be free of me—not until I tire of you. I fashioned you, Victor.  **You’re mine.**  Look and see.” _  
  
_Victor peers into the blood pooling around Jim’s body. Within it, he sees his reflection and the Hebrew word “emet” carved into his forehead._

_“You love this man, Victor?”_

_Victor looks up at Penguin, who’s towering above him and sneering with derision. Zsasz tries to answer, but he can’t. Try as he might to speak, he has no voice. He's mute. Oswald continues._  
  
_“I know you better than you know yourself… what you are and what you bring. **No one brings it better** than you. Do you think I made you to bring... **love**?”_

_The kingpin laughs hysterically before sneering.  
_

_“You are_ **_incapable_ ** _of love.”_

_Penguin narrows his eyes and moves in closer.  The timbre of voice lowers with his calculated words._

_“No, Victor. I made you to bring the_ **_only_ ** _truth:_ **_death_** _.”_

_Penguin stretches a sinister smile. The kingpin takes Zsasz's karambit and taps the point to its owner's forehead, purring._

_“Who do you think carved_ **_that_ ** _into you? I have no intention of removing the aleph from your forehead to grant the truth you crave most. Your death comes when **I** see fit… _ _which is **never**.”_

 

__

 

—

When Victor finally comes to, he sees The Girls quickly surrounding him, looking rushed and panicked. Everything’s slow and muddled and hard to make sense of. His eyes drift to the tan blonde woman with the short spiked cut, her eyes not quite as blue as Jim’s.

_Why is Glowski here?_

He slowly blinks as they lift him. All the blood and fresh cuts covering his arms and legs come into better focus, as well as the gashes on his chest. The women struggle to hoist him up and his head lolls around. The legs of his workbench and table are broken apart and strewn across the room with his clothes and boots. The walls and concrete floor have swipes of blood and there are broken mirror shards littering the floor.

He turns to Tasha and slurs.

“Has Jim called yet?”

She looks at him with an expression he’s never seen on her before. It's becoming increasingly difficult for Victor to speak and to focus.

“I need my phone. Jim said he’d call… He _promised_.”  
  
She quickly covers her mouth and shakes her head. Victor tries to ask her what's wrong, but finds it impossible to get the words out. He can only seem manage one last thought before drifting into unconsciousness.

_Is Tash… crying?_

—

The next few days are a blur, but at least The Girls don’t lock him in the basement anymore. If anything, he’s _never_ alone—not since after they went to Frankie’s. Someone’s _constantly_ watching him.

In fact, he now has _so_ _little_ privacy, he sometimes wonders if the basement might be better.

He doesn’t really remember much about the last day ( _days?_ ). The truth is, he doesn’t really feel much like himself anymore. Everything’s muted… stretched… _slower_. It’s hard to concentrate. Things he normally does without thought or effort are now taxing and exhausting.

The weird thing is that he doesn’t find himself as impatient or agitated anymore.

Not with himself.

Not with anything.

The Girls have been talking a lot about a tracker they found on his Super Sport and they’re still trying to figure out who planted it.

_Probably Penguin. That’s probably how he found Mrs. Gordon and got Jim..._

_Jim._

Things are picking up a little. Now that Penguin’s out of the picture, people are vying for territory again. Tasha’s been getting a few calls about jobs and following up on some job leads, but things are still pretty slow. The problem is _nobody’s_ forgotten Penguin’s enforcer or his enforcer’s crew.

Maybe it’s for the best. Victor’s always tired and doesn’t have much energy anymore. He sleeps a lot and doesn’t remember much.

Except for the dreams.

They’re always about Jim.

There are the ones where he wakes in Jim’s bed. Sometimes, Jim faces him. Sometimes, he faces the other direction. Those dreams always start out the same:

Victor is delighted to find Jim in his arms.

They always end the same too:

Victor rolls Jim over or lifts his chin to kiss—only to find him coughing up blood as more pours from his chest and spills onto the bed.

Sometimes, he dreams about when Jim left him in the backseat of his Impala the last time they were together.

Other times, he dreams about the time Jim left him in the woods.

Or about what happened in the warehouse.

Or on the way to the hospital.

But there was that _one_ time he dreamed about that asshole in foster care.

The one who _changed_ him.

Who _hurt_ him.

Who _cut_ him.

Who _fucked_ him.

Who taught him **_how_ ** _to hurt._

_To cut._

_To fuck._

_To_ **_kill_** _._

Jim still hasn’t texted or called and it hurts. Victor still thinks about him all the time, but ever since Glowski’s been hanging around a lot, he doesn’t feel like himself anymore.

In fact, he doesn’t even _feel_ as much anymore.

The pain runs just as deep but, for some reason, it doesn’t seem as acute, urgent or extreme. It’s not _raw_ anymore. Instead, it’s pervasive… bottomless… _infinite_.

It’s just his life now.

His new life without Jim.

Or is it back to his old life without Jim?

It’s hard to tell sometimes.

_Is Jim okay? Is he dead or alive? Or does he just hate me now because of what I did to Bullock?_

That’s the hard part.

The _‘not knowing’_.

All The Girls take their turns with him and are more vigilant than ever—Xoch in particular. She watches him at night, but never falls asleep anymore. When she isn’t there at night, Ursula and Demaris sleep in his bed on either side of him. What’s weird is, even though they’re in his bed, he never wants to fuck anymore. He just wants to sleep.

Xoch smokes and dishes her normal shit as they walk to the Impala. It’s a ritual now. It makes him feel better since Jim hasn’t called.

“I dunno, Victor. Maybe I should rethink being pissed at you for pulling your boneheaded shit. I finally have a hot blonde in my bed on the regular—so thanks for _that_ , dude.”

She sits on the running board and takes a long drag from her Lucky Strike. Zsasz sits where he always does, fingering the blood that hasn’t worn off from his regular visits. He looks down at her, his gaze distant and voice wistful.

“Thanks for not lettin’ ‘em wash my ‘67.”

She waves him off. After the sound of a distant siren fades, he extends two fingers towards her. When she reaches for her pack, he shakes his head. She flips over her Lucky and hands it to him between her thumb and index finger.

He brings it up to his mouth and takes a drag. As he inhales, he experiences the burn he forgot about. It’s been a long time and it makes him lightheaded. He presses his lips together.

“I was a dickhead the other night.”

He shakes his head and rubs his face.

“It’s just that Jim… he still hasn’t…”

Victor blinks back the pooling in his eyes. Xoch leans forward, pecks his knee and gives him a couple of reassuring pats on his thigh. She stands and taps out another cigarette as she saunters off to give him some privacy.

Zsasz scrolls past his unanswered texts to find the last one Jim sent him one short week before they rushed him to Gotham General when he was barely clinging to life.

“ _I love you_

_I promise…”_

Victor recalls sitting in the very same spot he does now, peering up at Jim who straddled his lap right before they parted ways—not long after sending that text. He recalls how hungry, heated and fervent they _both_ were.

He remembers Jim in his hand, him in Jim’s.

_Just like the first time._

Jim was so warm. Vibrant. _Alive._

“ _Victor_... ** _oh god!_ _I love you!_** ”

Victor recalls struggling to echo Jim’s words that morning.

When he _finally_ realized the truth:

That he felt the same way about Jim.

But was too afraid to admit it.

And now, as Victor’s mind slowly drifts back to that morning, another realization finally occurs to him:

He missed his one and only shot to face his fear and tell Jim he loves him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all know I worry endlessly about how to portray/write/express Victor. He’s always so much easier to write on my own because I like to keep things contained and somewhat sparse. One of the _many_ great things about my fanfic wifey, Deya, is that she regularly challenges me and pushes Victor to limits I would _never dream of_ on my own. Sure, I pilot him, but FC’s ultimately the one who forces him (me) into situations that give him so much more emotional depth than I ever could alone. He’s just as much her character (possibly even more) than he is mine.
> 
> I remember getting my “assignment” to write this chapter about Victor trying to cope with the uncertainty of Jim’s fate and his inability to find out. I knew _I had to_ incorporate the folklore of Der Goylem (my initial title for it). The decision was instantaneous. It was the _only_ thing I knew with any certainty from the beginning. Sure, maybe it was painfully obvious and cliché, but it was just too f*cking perfect: Victor is a monster—a monster summoned to protect and kill for his bosses, fashioned by who knows what forces on Gotham. (In our AU fic, it’s due to his being orphaned and mental/physical/sexual abuse in foster care before Don Falcone became his guardian.)
> 
> Deya and I both knew Zsasz would go out of his f*cking mind not knowing what happened to Jim and leave a trail of carnage throughout Gotham attempting to find out. It was only after she and I discussed The Girls rescuing him from custody that I realized they would have to rescue him over and over and over again until he learned the "truth". The only way they could keep Zsasz outta Arkham would be to keep him sedated, physically restrained and confined, in effect confining him at home to prevent his confinement elsewhere.
> 
> That was my starting point. I hate that Victor suffers as much as he does, but his karmic ripening in this chapter is so perfect. He regularly tortures and kills with no remorse. Before Jim came along, Zsasz had no real emotional attachment (beyond his bubbie, Don Falcone and The Girls). Then, inexplicably, Detective Gordon turns him into a "real" boy. He's surprised to discover he actually has a beating heart that not only feels, but _loves_ deeply and fiercely (not "a black, shriveled, dead heart and a bottomless pit where his soul should be"— _thank you, Harvey_ ), only to have that very thing be the source of all his suffering. Victor also finds himself confined and mentally tortured in his dungeon of horrors where he regularly pleasures himself by torturing and feasting on the pain of others. 
> 
> I wanted Victor to experience a jumbled mess of painful feelings, memories, nightmares and fears (along with say maybe an escape attempt and a murder or two). I kept picturing Victor in his basement going out of his phuccing mind. I also imagined Victor becoming increasingly irrational, obsessively circling back to Jim and Jim's promise to return—perhaps even spurred on by the deep subconscious pain and fear of abandonment, having been orphaned as a child (despite his casual and breezy persona—possibly constructed as a coping mechanism to "deal" with the death of his parents or simply the result of learning that painful lesson at such a tender young age).
> 
> It was from that point, I began typing and the craziest thing happened: this thing sorta wrote itself. Zsasz is endlessly tortured by the maras (demons) of his mind (and goodness knows our fic was just ripe with fantastic source material for all the maras that torment him). Victor (Gotham's most colorful "Deathbringer") can only fathom one way to end his torment: by taking onto himself the very thing he brings others.
> 
> }8> -o-
> 
> ______
> 
> Okay... CONFESSION time!
> 
> Owl, back when we were working on Boxcutter... I... 
> 
> *takes in a deep breath*
> 
> I felt a bit starved of Zsasz internal dialogue.
> 
> NOW... wait.... before you flip out and go back and wonder where and why I feel this way...
> 
> For the first fic, Zsasz’s lack of deep internal workings is perfect! On par! 
> 
> BUT NOW...
> 
> *rubs her hands together and smacks her lips*
> 
> This shit HERE! Oh good lord! This is why Safe Word feels so damn fucking perfect to me. It may not have the initial BANG of Boxcutter but man what it lacks in porny fucking and those weird bits of fluff... Safe Word makes up for in heart wrenching goodness that is only made so beautiful because we finally get a deep look into this man’s agony and his disposition to OBSESS.
> 
> Owl is a MASTER. MASTER!!!
> 
> ~FC
> 
> _Filthy! YOU! STAHP!!! Y'all! Look at Deya's DELICIOUS illustrations! Talk about MASTERY, Y'ALL!!! BTW, For those who have been reading, Deya's added some of her art throughout this fic! OH EM GEEE!!! I LURVE IT! Go back and see for yourself! 8^) BEST. FANFIC WIFE. EVER!!! }8 > -o-_


	24. Incorporeal Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to Zsasz and Gordon’s last moments together, immediately after the events the night Victor wandered into Jim’s apartment. The morning after, Jim reaffirms his promise to return once his job is done.

—>  <—

 

_Victor wakes to the sunlight filtering through the blinds. He shifts and smiles down at the man whose head tucked in his armpit with an arm and leg tossed over him. He pulls Jim closer and pecks the top of his adorably mussed head, still incredulous they’re occupying the same bed—especially after everything that happened the night prior. He was so lost when he saw Jim with Harvey at Bernardo’s._

_He struggles to understand_ how the hell _Detective Jim Gordon (of all people) managed to become so important to him over the past months. Sure, the man’s smoking hot and a total badass, but there’s that_ feeling _he gets when he’s with Jim, contentment… a sense of_ belonging(?). _It’s as if Jim presents an answer to a question he never thought to ask. He finds himself wanting Jim far more than he’s ever wanted anyone or thing. It’s why he couldn’t help but go to Jim’s apartment last night. No place else feels right anymore. He doesn’t feel right anymore… unless he’s with Jim._

 _Victor’s eyes trail downward, studying how the sunlight dances on the fine golden hair of Jim's body. That’s when he finally sees it—the bruising_ he _caused. He knows fully well business is 'business', but he can’t seem to shake the… guilt_ (that’s what it is, right? ) _at having hurt Jim. He’s confounded by how much he regrets the consequences of one of his favorite indulgences: inflicting pain. Victor usually delights in the anguish of others, but not_ this _time. The more he stares at the evidence of his actions, the more remorse he feels. He finds this foreign emotional terrain confusing..._ complicated _. He presses his lips together with consternation and softly strokes Jim’s hair._

_Jim stirs; he startles awake with the feel of fingers going through his hair. The grogginess quickly dissipates once his eyes focus on Victor. He smiles sleepily and nuzzles into his lover’s armpit, inhaling deeply of his scent. He doesn’t know what kind of deodorant Victor uses, but he can’t get enough of how he smells. He’s ensconced in a rich layer of clove and star anise with mixtures of mossy and woodsy undertones. His personal scent is warm and spicy with the lingering notes of leather._

_His arm over Victor’s body tightens. He groggily muffles._

_“Morning. God, you smell so good. I could just lay in your armpit all day._

_Jim nuzzles his face deep into Victor’s pit; he plants a few soft kisses on the creases within. He sighs heavily into Victor’s nook, finding peace and safe harbor in the warm fold of his body._

_Victor strokes Jim’s face and answers with a large dreamy smile._

_“Keep_ that _up and I just might let you.”_

_Victor grimaces at the taste and cottonmouth from the bourbon, only to feel a mild headache. He nods towards the bottle on the nightstand._

_“Ugh._ How _do you drink that stuff?”_

_Jim muffles into Victor’s armpit._

_“You’re not supposed to overindulge. I like the taste.”_

_Jim lifts his head as his hair flops into his face. He squints one eye at Victor and beams a smile as he states._

_“Wait here. I’ll get you some water.”_

_Jim begins to roll over, but winces when his agitated sides complain. It also didn’t help that last night Zsasz pounded into him like he was the last piece of ass on earth. Jim smiles as he recalls feeling Victor’s weight on top of him as he wildly chased his release._

_He stands and does his best to stretch as he walks to the bedroom door._

_Now that Jim’s standing, Victor can_ really _see the bruising around his ribs and back, where he slammed Jim into the car and kicked him. He presses his lips together and shakes his head._

_“No. That can wait. Come over here.”_

_Jim stops and turns his head at Victor. He runs a hand through his bedhead and smiles._

_“Okay, but if you shrivel up into human jerky, I tried to help.”_

_Jim saunters back to the bed and plops down, lying on his back. He reaches for Victor’s hand and pulls him over. He beams Victor a large smile, content with staying in bed wrapped in his arms all day._

_“Duly noted. I’m a big boy, Jim. I_ think _I can get my own water.”_

_Victor runs his fingertips along the extensive bruising along Jim’s ribs. He leans down and presses a kiss in it before returning Jim’s gaze._

_“I’m sorry.” He briefly looks down and shakes his head._ “Really.”

_“Hey, it’s okay. Considering all the other times I’ve kicked your ass, figured you were owed retribution. Next time, I’ll make sure to attack you like a rabid wolverine.”_

_Jim smiles and winks. He pulls Victor to his lips._

_Zsasz chortles at Jim’s levity. He bites his lower lip and slowly shakes his head._

_“Well, since you put it_ that _way, I don’t feel so bad anymore. And a_ 'rabid wolverine' _, huh?" Victor smiles arches a brow and bites his lower lip. "_ Promise? _‘Cause I’m gonna_ hold ya _to that.”_

_He smiles down at Jim, teases his lips apart and kisses him._

_Jim’s stomach growls loudly; he chuckles into Victor’s mouth._

_“How about some breakfast?”_

____

_At the Griddle House, Jim picks a place in the back where they will get some privacy. He scoots into the cushy red latex booth seating while Victor quickly follows him in. The small breakfast dive permeates a cornucopia of smells: ham, waffles, fried chicken, coffee and maple syrup._

_Jim smiles as Victor throws an arm around his shoulder and pulls him in to sit close. He leans his head on Victor’s shoulder and lays one hand on his lap. He peers into his lover’s adoring gaze and feels his heart skip a beat._

The world just melts away when I look into his eyes.

_Jim exhales and turns his head into Victor’s neck and whispers._

_“I can spend the rest of my life staring into_ your eyes. _”_

_Victor swallows and inhales a deep whiff of Jim’s hair and presses a firm kiss into it. He nods as he exhales and quietly whispers._

_“Me too.”_

_“Ahem. You two ready to order?”_

_A large and unamused waitress stands at the booth, looking to have been there a moment too long. Her eyebrow arches while her eyes convey a sense of apathy for her job. Her notepad is up with her tiny chewed up pencil, ready to scribble their order._

_Jim jumps ever so slightly as he chuckles. He nods._

_“Two waffles with strawberries and cream. I’ll also have a coffee and a water, please.”_

_Jim finds himself blushing with the woman’s scrutinizing gaze as her eyes go back and forth between him and Victor._

_Victor smiles and shakes his head, mentally reciting Jim’s customary breakfast order along with him as he tells the waitress. The moment Jim finishes, Victor looks up at her._

_“Yeah, umm… I'll have the three-piece fried chicken, an order of pancakes, three eggs over easy and uh…” He briefly looks up before nodding back at the woman. “How ‘bout a coffee—_ black _and a water? Oh. And_ extra _butter.”_

_Jim busts out laughing with Victor’s extensive breakfast list._

_“Yeah, I can’t afford your stomach.”_

_Victor nuzzles Jim’s neck and takes his ear into his mouth, suggestively growling._

_“I dunno, Jim. Keep supplementing my diet with all that extra protein of yours, ya just might be able to pull it off.”_

_Victor takes Jim’s earlobe between his teeth and tugs it._

_The waitress with the name tag, Lola, cringes as she walks away._

_Jim finds himself taken aback with Victor’s loud proclamation about swallowing down his cum. Jim quickly covers Victor’s mouth with one hand as he chuckles. He shakes his head and looks around. He then pecks Victor’s nose and lets his mouth go. He quips to his mischievously smirking lover._

_“Still, I think I wouldn’t provide enough.”_

_Jim leans in and kisses Victor’s lips. He exhales a long slow breath as his eyes track back and forth on Victor’s face._

_“I suppose I should take a side gig to afford you. Or just make more rank in the GCPD.”_

_Jim smiles but it begins to falter._

I probably will be out of a job if I’m not dead or in prison. Maybe I should go back to being a bounty hunter or become a private detective...

_Victor smiles, imagining Jim as a stripper in some ridiculous cop uniform with tear away pants and arches a brow at the thought. However, when he hears Jim’s comment about ranking up, he puffs out a dismissive snort._

_“You’re not exactly the ‘fall in line’ kinda guy that…”_

_The words die on Victor’s lips. He stiffens, suddenly remembering Jim’s secret endeavor and dreading what it will likely entail—_ going after Penguin on his own. _He swallows and looks down again before hesitantly looking back._

_Jim smiles and finishes Victor’s thought._

_“No, you’re right. I’m not. It’s probably why I’m not Captain.”_

_Jim suddenly remembers all the conversations with his mom about him making rank. He scoffs and adds._

_“My mother keeps asking about why I haven’t moved up. Day one, I was nothing but a hothead at the GCPD. I’m lucky I’m still employed... I guess.” Jim smiles at Victor and mentions. “By the way, she asked about you. I think she misses you. I knew she would take to you quickly.”_

_Victor blinks, surprisingly moved by Jim’s statement. He eases with the change of topic and mention of Jim’s mom. He puffs a small sigh and smiles to one side of his mouth._

_“She’s_ really nice _, Jim. You’re… lucky to still have her.” Victor begins to fidget. His leg starts bouncing and his eyes nervously dart around. His tone grows saturnine. “I… lost_ both _my parents pretty young. Kinda like you lost your dad? I think it kinda..._ changed _me. I wasn’t always like…”_

_Victor knits his brow and screws up his mouth. He briefly looks down and shrugs dismissively._

_“I was_ different _when I was kid.”_

_Jim nods and feels his heart break for Victor. He knows it’s a huge event in Zsasz’s life that influenced him down the road he currently travels._

Can it really just be because of circumstance as to why he is the way he is? All my classes would tell me otherwise but it **can** be a factor. I came from a loving home and I still ended up like this.

_Jim plants a kiss on Victor’s cheek and lays his hand on Victor’s bouncing leg._

_“I think my mother would love to be a mother to you. Hell, Edna goes on and on about you. I think she would love to adopt you.”_

_Jim smiles as his hand squeezes Victor’s leg._

_The waitress comes by with their drinks._

_Victor looks away from Jim, his brow scrunching. He presses his lips together and soberly nods before returning his gaze. He tries to keep his smile easy, but the truth is, what he’s about to say actually_ hurts. Surprisingly so.

 _“But they don’t really_ know _me. Do they?”_

_Jim furrows his brow._

_The realization hits Jim. The man his family met isn’t the whole person. Nevertheless, they fell head over heels for the same part of Victor that has_ him _so enamored. But he knows his family would not open their arms for a killer as he did. This he knows._

_Jim can feel his gut wrench. If his mother knew the sort of things he’s done; would she still love him?_

_“No, they don’t. However, they don’t really know me either. I guess we are both men with a world of lies to hide. Speaking of which, how the hell did my mother know we’re lovers?”_

_Zsasz’s tension subsides with Jim’s admission. Somehow, it makes him feel better._

_“I guess when I made breakfast with her. She asked how long we’d been…” Victor briefly looks up trying to recall her exact words, “’_ together… as lovers’? _” He briefly screws up his mouth to one side before returning Jim’s gaze. “I thought she wanted to know how long we’d been fucking." He shrugs casually. "So I told her.”_

_Victor takes a few gulps of coffee and crinkles his brow at Jim’s changed expression._

_“What? Was I not supposed to say anything?”_

_Jim groans into his cup of coffee. He sets down the cup and laughs. He shakes his head and flashes Victor one of his characteristic_ uneasy smiles.

_“No, not your fault. I guess I should have watched myself around you. She was always great with picking up on my physical cues when I have a thing for someone. She’s a keen woman with a keen eye. Well... at least it seems she took the news well.”_

_Jim leans his elbows on the table and sips his coffee. He beams Victor a large smile and adds._

_“Mom wants to see you for Thanksgiving get together.”_

_Victor’s blinks in surprise at the sentiment and its implications._

Jim’s talking like he really **is** coming back.

 _“If she’ll have me… and you still want me…” Victor’s brow softens. “I’d be…_ honored _.”_

_Jim turns his head and peers at Victor. He furrows his brow and states._

_“Of course I want you.”_

_Jim leans into Victor and gently takes his chin in his hand. His eyes tracking back and forth between Victor’s eyes._

_“_ I love you. _And I promised you I would come back._ I’m. Coming. Back. _”_

_Victor nods, struggling to maintain eye contact with Jim and keep his smile easy. He swallows and croaks._

_“Ya_ better _, Jim. I’m holdin’ you to it.”_

_Victor leans in and teases Jim’s lips apart, sighing as he takes in Jim’s mouth and scent._

_Lola sighs and clears her throat._

_“Should I just wait on bringing the food or just serve you both while you make out?”_

_Victor strokes Jim’s hair and turns to the lady, puffing out a chuckle._

_“Nah. Bring it.”_

_Zsasz pokes at Jim’s stomach with a finger._

_“Somebody gets_ grumpy _when they don’t eat.”_

_He chuckles and winks at Jim._

_“Oh wait.” He points to himself. “That’s_ me _, isn’t it? Probably best that you bring that food..._ now _.”_

_Jim looks Zsasz over and realizes he has his guns and holster on under his coat. Lola finally shifts her unamused gaze to Jim. He shakes his head and gives her a stern look as he nods at the food._

_The waitress shakes her head as she sets down Jim’s food and half of Victor’s order. She hurries to the service station to get the rest._

_Victor bites his lower lip and rubs his hands together at the spectacular sight of all his food. The first thing he does is methodically slather every last one of his pancakes with a generous portion of butter, before pouring_ just _enough syrup between each one, but not_ too _much._

 _He grabs a chicken leg and wolfs it down before cutting into his eggs and swallowing a huge forkful. He watches the yolk spread all over the plate surrounding everything around it: thick and rich like blood—just_ yellow _. That’s when he kicks himself for not ordering hash browns._ I could **still** order some… _He shrugs, sets down the clean drumstick bone and starts tackling his stack of pancakes._

_Jim plops a forkful of waffles into his mouth and glances over at Victor. He shakes his head and smirks as he chews._

_He attacks his food like anything else in life—with fervor._

_Jim then stares ahead as his thoughts turn to finding Headhunter and acquiring weapons. He doesn’t have much money but he hopes that he can strike a deal with the man. Jim’s brow furrows as he absently chews his food, caught up in his thoughts._

_Victor stops eating momentarily when he notices Jim staring off into space, the way he does sometimes. Zsasz warily regards Jim, leaning in and nudging his neck below his ear to peck it. Victor doesn’t usually pry, but the nagging feeling in his gut prompts him to ask anyway._

_“You alright?”_

_Jim turns and regards Victor for a moment. He shrugs and states._

_“I have a lot of things to get straight in my mind before I leave. Also, I really hate how_ quickly _time escapes us when we are together.”_

_Jim smiles sadly at Victor but quickly turns and sips his coffee then continues eating his breakfast._

_Victor nods and presses no further. He simply wraps an arm around Jim, runs his fingers through his hair and presses a kiss to the top of his head, sighing quietly._

_“Just watch your six, okay?” He puffs out a big breath. “You’re supposed to come back.”_

_Victor pecks the top of Jim’s head a second time and returns to his food._

_Jim nods._

_“Don’t forget to tell your boss. Okay? About me backing off. I don’t want my coworkers and Harvey to stress anymore considering it’s mostly my fault.”_

_Jim chuckles and adds._

_“Actually, all of it is_ my fault _.”_

 _Victor stiffens at Jim’s reminder and the prospect of facing Penguin to deliver the message, especially after what he did to him the previous night. Victor had already given serious thought to_ not _returning, but he has commitments to his men and The Girls. He also promised Jim he’d deliver his message. He rubs the back of his neck and his leg begins bouncing again, absolutely convinced Jim is going on some kind of suicide mission, not that he’d ever admit it. Zsasz sucks in a huge breath and holds it briefly before nodding and puffing out his reply._

_“Yeah. Okay.”_

_He clenches his jaw, rubs his mouth and continues to eat, avoiding Jim’s gaze._

_—_

_Victor shuts off the Impala and takes a deep breath. He has been dreading this moment the entire ride back to Jim’s apartment, tempted to leave everything behind and to ask Jim to do the same, but knows_ he can’t. _He knows_ Jim can’t. _He stares ahead for a little while before turning to face Jim, struggling to maintain his composure. His apprehension grows, fueled the nagging suspicion that this could actually be the last time he sees Jim._

 _Zsasz clenches his jaw to keep it still._ Holy shit my fucking jaw is quivering. _He swallows and blinks before turning his gaze to Jim. He’s overwhelmed by a barrage of emotions, none of which he can pinpoint—much less give voice. He starts to open his mouth, but can’t find words. He simply shakes his head and offers a weak smile._

_Jim can see Victor is visibly shaken up. He knows Victor has an idea of what he’s going to do. He doesn’t want them to part ways in despair. What little time they do have, he wants to spend it declaring his love to the only soul that makes him feel complete._

I’ve never believed in things like soulmates but after everything we’ve been through… I’m inclined to change my mind. I feel… **whole** … when I’m with him.

_He slides over to Victor and wraps his arms around his shoulders. He presses his forehead to Victor’s and smiles._

_“I guess I should take you off ‘block’ so when I’m done I can call you and you can call me.”_

_Victor puffs out a relieved chuckle, raises a hand to Jim’s face and peers deeply into those cornflower blue eyes. He nods._

_“Yeah, that… would probably be a good idea.”_

_Jim reaches into his jacket and takes out his phone. He adjusts the settings for Victor’s number and shows it to him._

_Jim quickly types out a text._

"I love you

I promise..."

_He waits for it to be received by Victor’s phone._

_When Victor feels Jim’s text drop in, he reaches for his phone and opens it. His eyes grow blurry at the message. He tries reining in his facial expressions and swallows as he closes his phone and slips it back into his pocket. He gazes at Jim and takes his face in his hand._

_“Jim, when you come back… I want you to come home with me—to meet The Girls. They’re the closest thing I have to family... besides my bubbie.” Victor shifts and swallows. “Actually, I’d like you to meet_ her _, too.”_

_Jim leans into Victor’s hand as his eyes close. He nuzzles Victor’s palm and plants a long soft kiss on it. He opens his eyes and smiles._

_“I would love to meet them all.”_

_Jim drops the phone back in an inside pocket. He smiles and wraps his arms around Victor’s shoulders again. He turns his head and peers at the back seat. He raises an eyebrow and purrs._

_“Pretty spacious back there…”_

_Victor slowly stretches a wide grin and softly shakes his head._

_“You have no idea.”_

_In no time, Victor is in the backseat of his Impala with Jim, who’s straddling him on his lap. He’s already clawed off the detective’s jacket and tossed it to the floor of the car. He greedily runs his hands beneath Jim’s t-shirt, desperately groping as much of the man’s warmth as he can and moaning up into his mouth. He impatiently lowers his hands and grabs his haunches to pull him closer. Victor’s agonizingly hard and feverishly thrusting into him._

_Jim grabs onto Victor’s holster and pulls him close. His tongue searching deep into Victor’s mouth. He wants to remember the taste and texture; forever having Victor’s perfect mouth imprinted in his memories. He grabs his lover’s face with both hands moaning into the kiss. Jim grinds his hips into Victor as he heavily pants._

_“I can never get enough of_ you _.”_

 _Victor hastily unbuckles and unfastens the man’s jeans. When he hears Jim’s words, he reaches for the side of his face and looks deeply into_ those eyes _. Zsasz looks down to Jim's open mouth and drags his thumb across his swollen lips before peering back up at him, his eyes soft._

_“You’re… all I think about… all I want.”_

_Jim smashes his mouth to Victor’s. He makes quick work of Victor’s belt and pants. His lips travel down to Victor’s neck as his hands reach inside the man’s boxers to set him free._

_“Honestly it’s going to be hell being away from your body.”_

_Jim begins stroking Victor as he nips at his neck._

_Victor is just about to reach into Jim’s jeans, when he gasps and shudders in response to the man’s grip, momentarily unable to continue—rendered helpless by his mouth and hand. He wantonly groans when he finally reaches inside Jim’s boxers and takes him into his hand…_ hot _…_ hard _…_ hurried _… just like the first time in that garage._

_He moans and begins working Jim in earnest, dragging his precum along the tip of his cock and teasing his frenulum with the pad of his thumb. He takes a long, luxurious lick up Jim’s neck and relishes the familiar rasp of his stubble, deeply inhaling his scent. He opens wide and slowly bites into Jim’s neck, working the man’s throbbing cock and thrusting into his hand._

_Jim lets out a shaky gasp when he feels teeth. His free hand comes up and caresses Victor’s head as his right hand begins pumping him in earnest. His hand navigates the familiar large and throbbing flesh with his customary flick and rotate maneuver. He can feel the dewey precum coat his hand as he gives Victor a long firm stroke. He brings his sticky fingers to his own mouth and licks the clear salty remnants off. Jim moans._

_“I fucking_ love _the way you taste.”_

_Jim returns his hand below to continue stroking. He nudges his mouth to Victor’s._

_Zsasz watches Jim take his fingers into his mouth, reminiscent of the time he first tasted Jim, panting heavily and moaning._

_“Jim..._ fuck. _”_

_Victor shakes his head and groans._

_“You drive me fucking crazy.”_

_Victor grabs the back of the detective’s neck and forces him to his lips, shoving his tongue deeply into his mouth, moaning at the taste of his salt on Jim’s tongue. His thighs are already trembling. He’s growing frantic, desperate,_ frenzied _. He ardently works Jim’s luscious breadth._

_Jim whimpers into Victor’s mouth. His excitement escalating with his lover’s quick strokes on his erection. Victor’s trembling body fuel the heat that’s blooming deep in his balls and cock. He works his right hand up and down on Victor’s cock in quick and easy flicks. Jim presses his open mouth to Victor’s, panting and moaning into his parted lips. He shudders as he feels the slow roll of heat building throughout his body. He peers into Victor’s large dark eyes. Jim feels their incorporeal bond strongest when they gaze at each other._

_“Victor..._ oh god! I love you! _”_

 _Victor looks up at Jim and takes in how he looks right now: lidded eyes, blown pupils, swollen lips and flushed cheeks—wanton, fervent,_ undone _. He’s staggered at the sight. He struggles to repeat Jim’s words, but they don’t come. All he can do is gaze up, absently opening and closing his mouth._

 _The only thing he knows for certain is_ Jim is all he wants. All he thinks about. All the time. _From the moment he wakes, to the moment he falls asleep. Jim even haunts his dreams._

That’s how I feel, don't I? That’s what **this** is, isn’t it?

_Still, he he can’t bring himself to say those words no matter how hard he tries or how convinced he is they’re true._

_The truth makes him feel weak. Powerless._ Vulnerable _. All the things he swore as a kid he’d never be again._

 _It_ terrifies _him._

 _Zsasz gazes up at Jim, eyes soft from the welling behind them. He tries to blink it all back, but one tear manages to roll down his face before he can. Victor swallows and draws Jim to his mouth again, whimpering into it and wishing this: the two of them_ together _wasn’t so fleeting. He groans and continues working Jim as he feels himself falter… slowing… tumbling…_ falling _...._

_Jim can feel himself slipping, his hand on Victor stuttering. His breaths labor as his mouth eats at Victor’s. He feels his body tense, his muscles clench. Jim’s free hand comes up and holds Victor’s face close to his as he bursts into Victor’s hand. Jim breathlessly wails._

_“Vic... Victor… fuck! Only you…_ Forever _…”_

_Jim tries his best to keep working Victor as he clings onto his shoulder. His forehead pressed to Victor’s._

_Victor gushes forth and quakes with Jim’s words._

_“Jim, I… I…”_

_Zsasz shakes his head and exhales a uneven breath, his body still trembling even after he cums. He releases Jim’s cock and takes him into his both arms. He tightly grasps Jim and firmly presses his mouth to his, probing it deeply with his tongue, fiercely clinging to the man and unwilling let go._

_Jim returns the kiss, wanting the moment to last forever. But he knows if he doesn’t let go now, it will only be more difficult the longer he delays. He strokes Victor’s face; he revels in the tactile sensations of Victor’s smooth skin. He trails his fingertips to the beautifully shaped mouth; pink and swollen lips part as labored breaths pass through them. Jim fingers the Cupid’s Bow on Victor’s upper lip and traces down to his lower lip._

_Jim lowers his mouth to kiss the man he loves. He pulls back just a little to look into Victor’s eyes; Jim smiles. He can feel the onset of a pang in his heart; the moment is quickly counting down to zero. A sob threatens to take hold of him but he quickly wraps his arms around Victor’s shoulders and takes in a deep breath._

_“I… I’ll call you… when…"_

_Jim chokes and can’t finish his sentence. He holds onto Victor tight a moment longer._

_Victor gazes up at Jim and blinks at that stinging again. He takes a deep breath and nods, offering a weak smile and reaching for Jim’s face as the man gazes down at him and caresses his lips. As Jim takes him in his arms one final time, Victor softly rocks him. His voice breaks with his reply._

_“I’ll be waiting.”_

_Jim nods, he leans in and gives Victor one final kiss. He can feel the stinging of pending tears hanging heavy in his eyes. He pulls back and caresses Victor’s face. He then stuffs himself in his pants and gets off of Victor’s lap. He grabs his jacket and gives Victor one final look before he pulls the handle of the door._

“I promise; I’ll come back to you.”

 _Victor leans back in the seat, watching every last move Jim makes—never once tearing away his gaze for fear these final moments together could be their last. It’s bittersweet. Every gesture Jim makes, no matter how mundane or insignificant, seems loaded,_ poignant _with its fleeting: his eyes even bluer, his scent stronger, his voice weighty, haunting,_ unforgettable _._

_Zsasz’s face contorts with Jim’s final promise. He swallows in response. The moment Jim reaches for the door handle, Victor chokes out a sob—unable to stifle it any longer._

_Jim halts when he hears the sob. He turns his eyes back to Victor and feels the same déjà vu that has haunted him for awhile now: large dark eyes, pending tears, the backseat of a car… Jim looking in._

Why does this feel so… familiar?

_Jim reaches out and takes Victor’s hand to squeeze it. He lets the hand go and opens the door. He looks through the passenger window one final time then heads to his apartment._

_Victor takes a deep breath to compose himself. He presses his lips together and nods, briefly accepting Jim’s hand and reluctantly releasing it. He schools his face and offers a weak smile when Jim turns back around one last time._

_Zsasz watches Jim walk away and ascend the stairs, motionless and breathless until he enters his apartment. Only after Jim stands inside his front window and looks back at the Impala, does Victor finally manage to give voice to the words he couldn’t say earlier._

_“I love you too, Jim.”_

 

 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, f*ck me. This chapter!
> 
> This chapter was originally twice as long, but we cut it down to what you see now. We originally had an extended morning scene before these two headed off to breakfast. We elected to keep this part of the story, ‘cause… well, Deya let Jess keep _this_ part (where Jim and Victor part ways in the car). 
> 
> I thought it really sold the desperation of these men and illustrated how crazy they are about each other. I also just loved how it’s the first time Victor _really_ grapples with deep, heartfelt emotions like guilt and regret over having hurt Jim, in addition to the fear of losing him. Last, but not least, it’s at this point in our story that Victor _finally_ realizes he loves Jim.
> 
> I remember Deya suggesting we delay this chapter until after the events of the warehouse and Victor enduring the h3ll of not knowing Jim’s fate. I didn’t really have any ideas about it one way or the other and just kinda thought, “Sure. Okay. We can do that.” *casually shrugging* “That’d be kinda cool.” 
> 
> But now? Having seen it’s placement after everything that’s happened so far in this story, I wouldn’t have it any other way. My fanfic wifey, FC’s, a f*cking genius!
> 
> }8> -o-
> 
> ______
> 
> When we finished the chapter, “Confessions” we didn’t have a morning after event for that. It was something we talked about while we were writing and organizing the scenes at the warehouse. I knew we HAD to create it. At first we thought about placing it after “Confessions” but our minds were already on Zsasz’s POV so going back and placing it in sequential order didn’t FEEL right. After reading Owl’s draft on Zsasz’s anguish the light bulb popped into my head. So we slotted it after Owl’s “assignment” and it really set well!
> 
> I think the part that hit me the hardest was the finale farewell in the car. There’s a heavy feeling in the air, Zsasz knew it and sensed it. When Jim leaves his side, his despair is so powerful. That feeling of helplessness, having to let Jim go, and wishing the both of them could runaway together... ugh.... That shit broke my heart.
> 
> Yeah this chapter originally was super long. I wanted to take out all the sex scenes because I was more invested in the emotional material especially after those heart breaking chapters that Owl wrote. But she clung to the handjobs in the car and after seeing it all together it I’m glad we kept it. My butcher knife is so quick on my chopping block =)
> 
> P.S. yeah there’s no tally marks on Zsasz in the art. I wanted to go for something beyond the body. 
> 
> ~FC


	25. Road to Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim recovers in the hospital while his mother and aunt remain by his side. Harvey pays Gordon a visit to confess his part in what happened at the warehouse. Jim asks Headhunter to deliver a message.

—>j<—

_Jim lies in Victor’s arms as the morning rays shine through his bedroom window. The atmosphere is heavy with golden light that softly envelops the smooth pale visage of his beaming lover. Jim smiles and reaches up to touch Victor’s face but his right arm is immovable and covered in blood; it lies useless at his side. Jim looks down at his own chest and sees blood spill like a fountain from a small hole. The crimson geyser saturates the sheets around them. Jim tries to talk but no words will flow from his mouth. Victor caresses his face and says._

_“The other bullet entered the subscapularis, nicking the subclavian vein and lodged into the scapula… Jim… I’ll be here. Please pull through. I need you.”_

_The sun begins to glare fiercely, blinding Jim from seeing Victor’s face. He squints and tries in vain to grasp onto Victor._

Steady bright lights pass by in quick succession. There’s a chill in the air and a sterile smell that wafts up his nose. Blurry forms surround him as they murmur to each other. Instruments with various audio signals hum their steady cadence as he’s being wheeled off god knows where.

 _Jim walks through an open door and sees Victor kneeling on the ground doing something that he can’t quite see. He calls out, but Zsasz does not turn around. He slowly approaches and notices a body lying on the ground before the kneeling man. A startling amount of blood quickly pools around them. Jim looks on in horror; he reaches out to grab Victor’s shoulder, to turn him around; his hand grasps onto thin air. Victor and the body are gone except for the viscous blood that shimmers from an unknown light; the crimson hue gleams. Jim sees movement on the mirrored surface of the blood pool and looks down to examine it. He can see himself in the reflection, only this version of_ **_him_ ** _is smiling as black eyes glisten up at him. His reflection speaks to him in Jervis Tetch’s voice._

_“My dear sweet sister Alice is inside your mind, on a molecular level. When you rage, that’s her leading the way; she lets the real you out to play!”_

_Jim tries to run away but his doppelgänger lunges through the pool of blood and sinks his claws into his ankles. He falls over and screams as the other_ **_him_ ** _continues to slither out of the blood and over him. His mirrored other looms mere inches from his own face._

_“You are mine… no matter what, Jim. No matter what.”_

__

Two days after the incident at the warehouse:

Irene is sitting by Jim’s bedside in the intensive care unit; it’s seven in the morning. Her sister, Edna, made a special trip to Gotham to watch over her. She came immediately when Irene was finally able to get hold of her. Irene is thankful that her sister Edna is much more fearless than she is. Irene stressed over navigating the big city alone and took comfort in Edna handling matters of acquiring a room at a hotel and driving the saturated streets of Gotham. Captain Bullock offered to help her but she didn’t want to monopolize his time.

Edna comes in with two teas and breakfast from a nearby coffee shop. She hands Irene her black tea and wheat bagel with strawberry cream cheese. Edna takes her breakfast and drags another chair close to Irene.

“How’s the ankle? Still hurting or has the pain relief kicked in yet?”

Irene nods and looks down at her ankle brace.

“It’s working now. Thanks for breakfast.”

Edna looks at Irene’s face and eyes the deep red rash at the corners of her mouth.

“Did you put on that cream to help with those rash marks on your face?”

Irene shakes her head and tries to sip her tea. She’s tender from the scabbed over corners of her mouth where the gag was tied tightly.

Edna sighs and shakes her head. She digs into a secondary bag from a stop at the hospital convenience store.

“Here, I got you a vitamin E chapstick and aloe vera lotion.”

She opens the chapstick and hands it to Irene. She then applies some aloe to the corners of Irene’s mouth.

They hear Jim rouse from sleep.

“Wh… mmm… ?”

Edna turns around and eyes her supine nephew. His head starts turning slowly towards her. Her eyes light up as she hurries to his bedside.

“You really awake son or still doped up and making weird noises?”

Jim offers a weak half smile when his eyes finally focus on her face. He turns his head and lazily scans the room. His is head foggy and incapable of grasping where he is and what has happened to him. He sees his mother who is struggling to get up. He smiles and reaches out his left hand but it quickly falls from exhaustion. He tries reaching with his right but stops when he feels an odd pressure at his shoulder.

Irene approaches and coos at him.

“James… You’re awake. You shouldn’t move your right arm. Relax.”

Irene leans in and kisses his forehead. Jim blinks and smiles.

“Mom…”

Irene gives him another kiss and smiles.

“You need to stop getting shot, James. You’re going to make me older and greyer before my time.” Irene chuckles through a sob but quickly reins in it. “You have a lot of healing to do and I’ll be here to see you through.”

Edna smirks and places her hands on her hips.

“I will be here too, giving you sass! Making sure you fight through the bad parts.”

Jim slowly nods but soon falls back to sleep.

Irene hobbles back to her chair with a smile on her face. She takes a deep sigh as a few tears roll down her cheeks. Edna stuffs a bite of cinnamon roll into her mouth as she hands an opened box of Kleenex to Irene.

Irene accepts the box and takes a few tissues to wipe her eyes.

Her mind goes back to how scared and distraught Victor was on the ride to the hospital. Her heart breaking over the real possibility that he’s still frantic and crippled with worry. She takes a deep breath in and says.

“I wonder how Victor is doing? I’m sure he’s going out of his mind wondering if James made it.”

Edna raises an eyebrow as her face scrunches in disbelief. She sets her cinnamon roll down and responds in an admonishing tone.

“Woman, are you nuts? From what you told me, Victor is a criminal. Escaped criminal at that! Look, I like the boy but facts is facts, there’s nothing we can do lest _we_ get hammered by the law for associating with him.”

Irene places a finger to her lips and shushes her sister.

“Not so loud; James might hear. I know he’s a criminal, Edna. But you should have heard what he said to James. My boy changed him and Victor _loves_ him for it. I witnessed a special moment on the ride to the hospital, one of grace… redemption. We’ve been preached our whole lives to hate the sin but not the sinner. I don’t hate Victor. How can I?”

Edna chews her roll and gruffs through a full mouth.

“That’s not gonna sway the long arm of the law, Irene.”

Irene shrugs; she lets out a deep sigh as her brow furrows.

“I recently discovered some information about Victor. For the longest time it had been nagging at me where I’ve heard his name. Well, some of the things he confessed to on the way to hospital… it all finally made sense. I remember Peter telling me about a favor he did for Carmine Falcone. He wanted to... ”

There’s a knock at the door and a nurse comes in. Irene smiles and ends her statement.

“Come in.”

The nurse ensures Jim’s intravenous bag is still flowing and of adequate levels, then takes his vitals and checks the chest tubes. She begins changing his shoulder bandages as she asks.

“Has he woken up at all?”

Irene nods her head and smiles.

“Yes, he was up for a few moments. He seemed lucid but quickly fell back to sleep.”

The nurse nods.

“Good! The medication is gonna make him sleep for a bit but he should wake from time to time.”

There’s a knock on the door; Harvey walks in. He’s carrying flowers and a bag of food and supplies.

“Mornin’, can I come in?”

Edna’s eyes scan the man’s face with a bit of a cringe. A pained smile slowly manifests as she offers a withering greeting.

“Captain… morning.”

Irene smiles and addresses him.

“Captain Bullock, come in. How’re your injuries? Nothing too extensive I hope.”

Harvey scoots out of the exiting nurse’s way and sets the flowers on a small table by Jim’s bed. He scratches the back of his head and shrugs.

“I’m use to my nose bein’ broken. I’ll be fine.”

Irene smiles as Harvey comes in close to Jim’s bedside. He points towards the flowers and says.

“From everyone at the GCPD. I uh… got you both some food and oh… um I have an extra set of keys that are to Jim’s apartment and car. He left them with me long ago. Figured it’ll come in handy when he’s able to leave the hospital. I had his motorcycle towed to GCPD motorpool, I dunno where the keys are.”

Edna stands and holds up a bag with Jim’s belongings that were in his jacket and shirt.

“There’s a set of keys, his wallet, and a boxcutter from the looks of it.”

Harvey nods and continues.

“Oh and uh… most of his clothes are at the locker room back at the precinct. He was livin’ there for a bit… I’ll make sure to take those wherever you want.”

Irene smiles and nods.

“Thank you, but why was he living at work?”

Harvey shrugs as he sets down the bags on the table.

“I dunno, we had stopped talkin’ to each other for awhile before all this happened. How’s he doin’?”

“He woke up for a bit but quickly fell back to sleep.”

Harvey nods as he looks at Jim. He approaches the sleeping man and smooths Jim’s mussed hair back. Harvey’s eyes take in all the spots where Jim’s blood is caked on; thick crusts in his hair, face, ears and down his neck. He closes his eyes and swallows. He’s been unable to suppress the the memories of _that night_. No amount of alcohol or stupefying narcotic prescriptions for his freshly busted face has helped dull his mental torture.

Before that night, he had no idea Jim still cared about Victor. He assumed that Jim ended the torrid affair and had moved passed whatever hold Zsasz had over him. But what Harvey finds even stranger is that the notorious assassin apparently feels the same way about Jim. Victor’s despair in the hospital was damn near palpable because it mirrored his own.

Back in the day, Harvey never had any run-ins with Zsasz except when he was in the background wherever Carmine Falcone went. Victor is renowned amongst the underworld and with the entire police force as being a cold-blooded murderer: a killer with no conscience, remorse or attachments other than his loyalty to Don Falcone. Harvey knows what he witnessed that night was unprecedented from a man such as Victor Zsasz.

Despite all of that, Harvey is still adamant about bringing Zsasz in, more so now than ever before. He wants to lock the man away so he will never complicate Jim’s life with his slimy presence again. Harvey has as many units the GCPD can spare patrolling the hospital. He also has everyone on alert—not only for the pale gunman, but also for his women.

Harvey scratches the back of his neck and sighs heavily.

Irene looks at Edna who is givin’ Harvey the stink eye. Irene clears her throat to get the contemplative man’s attention. She addresses Harvey delicately.

“Captain Bullock, that night when you came across me and Victor, it was all a _misunderstanding_. I know how it must have _looked_ through your eyes; me dangling there all covered in blood. Victor cut himself to fool…”

Harvey’s contempt and hatred for Victor Zsasz is already more than he can bear. His temper ignites; he refuses to listen to mama Gordon defend the psycho’s actions. He curtly interrupts.

“Victor Zsasz is a _murderer_ and a wanted _felon!_ Don’t worry, Mrs. Gordon; we’re doin’ everything possible to find him.”

Irene furrows her brow and nods. She takes a kleenex out and covers her face as a few sobs escape her. Edna rubs her shoulder and gruffly addresses Harvey.

“Captain, this boy maybe a wanted felon but he also _rescued_ my sister. And from what I heard, he loves my nephew a great deal. You do everything possible to bring him in _… alive_. No more _shooting first_.”

She gives Harvey a glare.

Harvey can feel a lump at his throat and simply nods. The horror he felt that night creeps through his spine once again. He addresses the two women.

“I have some pressin’ business back at work to tend to but I’ll be by at lunch time and, if you don’t mind, take you ladies to get food. I know this isn’t the time but I do needa take your statement ‘bout what happened.”

Irene does her best to compose herself.

Harvey leans down and places a kiss on Jim’s forehead. He turns and says.

“It’s best we discuss this at length durin’ lunch. No need to stress Jim out if he can hear us. I have to go. Mrs. Gordon, if Victor or his women try to contact you, please let me know.”

Harvey hands Irene his card.

“Or if you need anythin’ at all. Call me. Will you two be here around lunch time or at your hotel room?”

Edna holds up a finger and looks at the card then takes out her phone and calls Harvey’s. The muffled chime of his device in the pocket of his trenchcoat sounds off a few times then ends when Edna closes her phone.

“There, now you have my number. Irene’s phone was taken during her abduction. We’ll be back at the hotel room; the Hacienda Hotel not far from here.”

Havey nods and says as he begins walking out.

“Okay, I’ll call you when I’m on my way. See you ladies later.”

__

A week later:

Jim is awake while his mother feeds him chicken broth and water. It’s the first full day that he feels somewhat alert and not out of his mind from the cocktail of drugs the nurses have been giving him through his IV.

“How’s it holding down sweetie? Should I bring the vomit pan?”

Jim shakes his head and sips the water. He reclines back onto the pillows, thankful that the nausea from his medications has subsided since the doctor modified the dosage. He’s sure he lost a few pounds since his hospitalization.

“How’s the ankle?”

Irene looks down and shrugs.

“Oh, still bothering me, but not as bad as before. Edna makes sure I take pain relief and not walk around any more than I have to. You know how she is, all the the love of a mother hen but with the warmth of a snow storm.”

Jim chuckles and nods.

Irene extends an hand to Jim’s and squeezes it. She inhales a small breath and says.

“James, since you’re stronger now and able to stay awake long enough for conversation, we should talk.”

Jim nods.

“I know. Go ahead.”

Irene squeezes his hand and continues.

“James, about Victor, I could go on about your ties to him and how startling it all is but I won’t. You should have seen him; Victor was completely _undone_ , _distraught_ and _panicked_ the whole ride to the hospital. He cares for you _deeply_ and I know he’s probably waiting for word of your condition. Listen, one of his lady friends gave me their card to call them. I want to ask you; do you want me to contact him to let him know you are alive and well? I know I shouldn’t but if you so wish it, then I will. Edna and I went and got me a new phone. I can call right now.”

Jim knows that Victor is probably going out of his mind. It would be the _merciful_ thing to do, but he _knows_ Victor. The man is incapable of restraint when he’s upset, angry, or depressed. He envisions his frantic lover ( _boyfriend?_ ) racing towards the hospital and ignoring the protests of the nurses and fighting off (... _stabbing_ ) the orderlies to come see him. Jim takes a deep breath and reluctantly shakes his head. His voice pitches ever so slightly as he says.

“He would come here _at risk_ to himself and others to see me. I rather he didn’t. I’ll be sure to contact him once I’m out of here. I don’t want him to get caug...”

Jim cuts off what he was going to say. He can feel the dawning realization that no matter what Victor did, does or _will do_ , Jim never wants him to get caught by the police. It pains him to imagine Victor locked up in Blackgate or worse… _Arkham_.

Irene sighs and shakes her head.

“You’ve set your mind on ensuring he never gets apprehended. Haven’t you?”

Jim swallows and nods.

“ _I love him_. I know it’s completely irrational.”

Irene kisses Jim’s hand; she changes the subject to keep Jim from getting upset or wallowing in things he can’t help at the moment.

“Edna wants me to come live with her at her ranch. Your cousin, Sara, found another place to live. Your aunt will be all alone in that large home on all those acres. I think its best since these bad people know where I live; I should sell it.”

Jim shakes his head and says.

“No mom, don’t sell it. Let me take care of it. It’s our family home. But I agree, you should move in with Edna.”

Irene nods and pats his hand. She chuckles incredulously.

“You really gonna drive _three hours_ from Gotham to come water the flowers and make sure the home is in good repair?”

Jim smiles as he replies.

“I have no life, mom. Why not? Once I get better, I will help you move with Edna.”

Jim yawns as his eyes begin to grow heavy.

“As long as you don’t overextend yourself. You can help with organizing the movers but other than that, you’re to take it easy and heal.”

Irene reclines the bed ever so slightly for Jim and moves the bowl of soup and water away. She watches as her son quickly drifts off into another round of sleep.

——

Three days later:

Harvey pays Jim a visit. He sees that Jim is awake as a nurse finishes taking his vitals. Harvey walks in, his dread building with each step. He came to confess his involvement and how he believes Oswald figured out where mama Gordon lives.

“Hey, Jimbo.”

Jim is surprised by Harvey’s presence; he hasn’t seen him since the night at the warehouse. He nods once but quickly looks away from the approaching man.

Harvey crinkles his brow and shoves his hands in his coat pockets.

“Sorry I haven’t been around. Things are a bit crazy at work right now. Thought maybe we could talk since you’re more alert.”

Harvey sits at Jim’s bedside and removes his hat. His bandaged nose is severely swollen and a deep blue from the fresh bruising. He also has a black eye and a few scrapes and bruises on his forehead, chin and neck. Jim glances at him and does a double take, his eyes widening at the state of Harvey’s face. Jim blurts out.

“What _happened!?_ ”

Harvey chuckles as he scratches his beard. He points with his still braced-hand to his freshly busted face and says.

“ _This?_ Your boyfriend broke it again after you took two bullets for him. He probably woulda killed me if your mom didn’t scream that you were still alive.”

Jim looks at Harvey grimly. His brow furrowing as he casts his eyes down to his lap. He hears Harvey quickly add.

“Hey, it’s not like I blame him or nothin’. I mean, you looked _pretty fuckin’ dead_. Hell, I wanted to beat my own ass— _still do_. The pain from this busted face ain’t nothin’ compared to how I feel ‘bout what happened.”

Harvey leans on his knees and stares at the floor. Jim shakes his head as his lips press tightly, his voice quivering as he states.

“I made him _promise me_ he would _never_ hurt you again…”

Harvey mumbles as he gathers his thoughts.

“Don’t hold it against him. I may not like him but, in his defense, I think that’s an excusable breach of a promise. Let’s get down to some things here; no more secrets.”

Jim swallows and nods as he quickly interjects.

“I was still seeing Victor even when I said I wasn’t.”

Harvey scoffs and smirks up at Jim.

“Yeah, that’s not a big _shock_. I was speakin’ more ‘bout _me_ and not you. I have a confession and it’s not gonna be easy to take. I think I know exactly when Oswald discovered where your mother lives.”

Jim stares at Harvey with large eyes and on bated breath. Harvey leans back in the chair and slumps as he plays with the edges of his hat.

“Awhile ago before you visited your mother… well… I did somethin’ really stupid and unforgivable. I was angry and maybe just a bit jealous; I lost my mind to tell you the truth. I knew ‘bout you and Victor goin’ at it in my office. I called Oswald as soon as I discovered it and told him ‘bout you and Zsasz.”

Jim sits up and furrows his brow, his jaw clenched tight.

_“You what?”_

“I wanted him to keep Zsasz from you. Oswald said he wouldn’t go after you if I kept you from causin’ him trouble. I’m pretty sure the day you took Victor to see your mother is the day Oswald had him tailed. It’s all my fault and I wanted you to know.”

Jim wants to unleash on Harvey but he stops himself. He shakes his head because he knows there is no one to blame but himself—over _everything_. He inhales a shaky breath and says.

“I want to be _mad_ … _angry_. But all of this is initially _my fault_. I knew what I was getting into the night Victor and I first got involved with each other. I shouldn’t have done a lot of things, but the one thing I should have held firm on was not taking him to my mother’s. He wanted to go; he wanted to be with me. So I allowed it.”

Jim looks at Harvey as a couple of tears run down his face; he croaks out.

“I wish you would have approached _me_ first. Sure we would have yelled… hell… even fought each other but… _this?_ If Victor hadn’t realized it was my mother under _that_ _hood_ … where would we be _right now? Where, Harvey?!_ ”

Harvey shakes his head as tears begin to fall.

“I’m so sorry Jim. I was angry and I was sure you were up to no good ‘cause you were with him. I know I _fucked up_.”

Jim sighs and says.

“From now on, no more secrets between us. We’re best friends. My mom told me what happened. I have a hazy memory of it; I know you thought he hurt her— _badly._ I don’t blame you for reacting the way you did but Victor’s a part of my life now. I know how much this in conflict with my duty and I should turn him in but— _I won’t_.”

Harvey wipes his eyes as he lets out a loud scoff.

“Your mother defends him too. I feel like I’m missin’ somethin’ here. Is he _charmin’_ or somethin’? Like is there a _hidden_ personality just behind the _creepy murderer persona?_  Or is it somethin’ else….?”

Jim smiles and states.

“He’s _absolutely_ charming… and the way he touches me…”

Harvey groans.

“ _Alright alright… I get it!_ ”

Jim chuckles but his levity quickly fades.

“Harvey, about that phone call. My confession is true. I killed a lot of people who took out licenses and I destroyed that building… killing others. It’s what I was doing while I was on sick days.”

Harvey slumps in the chair and scratches his head. His gaze levels on Jim as he states.

“Jim, we’ve known each other a long time. And in that time I’ve cleaned up my act ‘cause of you. Before then I had done some _really bad_ things myself. I know your head and heart were in the right place. But if you feel the overwhelmin’ need to turn yourself in then I won’t stop ya. However, I won’t be the one haulin’ you to the GCPD. I can’t do it ‘cause…(exhales a large sigh) _I just find you so damn... charmin’..._ ”

Jim chuckles and shakes his head. Harvey busts out laughing and finishes.

“...it’s just under that _creepy_ murderer persona of _yours_. Somewhere _deep down_. Look, I get it. I know how you are. I would ask you to rethink your decision of turnin’ yourself in.”

Harvey shakes his head and grumbles.

”I’m beginnin’ to understand how you feel—not turnin’ Victor in.”

Jim stares at his lap, trying to process it all.

Harvey leans forward.

“Oh also, I dunno if this is your doin’ but Edward Nygma was stolen from the Iceberg Lounge. He’s currently being held god knows where by a group of people. They sent a video to reporters, they’re all masked in red hoods. They threatened to chop’em up into pieces if Oswald tries to enforce Pax Penguina ever again. Also, since Victor Zsasz doesn’t work for him anymore, he doesn’t have the numbers to keep at it; looks like the little twerp is shit outta luck.”

Jim’s brow furrows as a thought enters his mind.

“Can I borrow your phone?”

Harvey raises an eyebrow but complies with the request.

Jim dials out; a woman answers the phone.

“Mean Jean’s. How can I help you?”

“Hello, I’d like to speak to Mean Jean. Tell him it’s Swift Hand.”

He hears the woman on the phone yell out to Mean Jean.

“Yo, Jean! Someone on the phone says he’s Swift Hand.”

Jim can hear a ruckus and Mean Jean holler.

“ _Holy… Fuckballs!_ Yeah.. I got it thanks Norma. Swift! _Holy shit!_ We all thought you died or something! Where have you been?!”

Jim laughs and remarks.

“Well, you’re not too far off. I did almost die. I’m at the hospital. Can I get HH’s number off of you? My phone was destroyed that night.”

Mean Jean chuckles.

“ _Holy fuck!_ No kidding? Yeah, one second. Okay…"

Jim makes a gesture for paper and pen. Harvey digs into his coat pocket and hands him a small notepad and pen.

Jim scribbles down a number then says.

“Thanks Jean. I’ll be out of town for a bit to recover, but when I come back, I want to hear some stories! Sorry, I can’t talk too much right now but I’ll be in touch.”

“Yeah, man. Hey, glad you’re still part of the land of the _living_. Heal up because we have some stories for you!”

Mean Jean chuckles and bids him farewell. Jim deletes the number and hands Harvey’s phone back. Harvey smirks and pockets his phone.

“Super Secret Squirrel stuff?”

Jim offers a wary smile and shakes his head.

“No more secrets. I know who has Edward and once I’m back in Gotham I’ll arrange for pick-up. I think it’s best he remains in their hands for now, to keep Oswald on his toes.”

Harvey chuckles and points a finger at Jim.

“I knew it! So you and this other vigilante are one and the same then?”

Jim swallows and shakes his head.

“No, but whoever this person is, he has tech and is skilled enough to run circles around Zsasz and his team. I’m just glad whoever he is, he’s on our side.”

Harvey nods and grumbles.

“Fuckin’ A! It’s good to have at least one _nutjob_ on our side!” Harvey quickly raises his good hand in peace and interjects. “Uh… sorry I guess with you it makes _two nutjobs!_ ”

Harvey cackles as Jim grabs a spare pillow and flings it at him. The boisterous man deflects the projectile to the ground and asks between fits of his ebbing laughter.

“So when you gettin’ outta here?”

Jim shrugs and says.

“Doctors are saying maybe in two days. Think you can come by and help my mom and aunt haul me to the hotel? I’m breaking the lease on my apartment and will need to move out by the end of next month. I’m just going to put my stuff in storage.”

Harvey nods; he leans over and pecks Jim’s forehead.

“Yeah man, whatever you need. I can handle gettin’ your stuff packed and hauled outta there if you want.”

Jim nods and smiles.

“That would be a great help. Thanks. I’ll make sure mom brings the extra key back.”

Harvey makes for the door but stops as he plops his hat back on his head.

“ _Oh fuck_ , I almost forgot! Gabrielle called to the precinct a few days ago. I didn’t get into too much detail but told him you got hurt and are in the hospital. I couldn’t understand him ‘cause he ranted in Italian but I understood him sayin’ ‘airplane’ and ‘America’. I think he’s on his way.”

Jim clenches his jaw and nods.

_Oh crap! I forgot about Gabrielle. I haven’t broken it to him that I’m back with Victor._

“Okay. Thanks, Harv.”

“Your mom and your aunt both have my number. If you need me sooner to come get you, have’em call me. Oh and don’t worry ‘bout sick days; do what you have to do. I’ll fudge the numbers. Get some rest buddy. I love you, man.”

Jim smiles and nods.

“Love you too, Harv. Will do.”

Later, Jim’s mom and aunt come by.

“Hey sweetie, we went and picked up all your clothes and things from the precinct. We took it all to get laundered. I brought your combs and toiletries so you can freshen up.”

“Thanks! Mom, can I borrow your phone real quick?”

__

Headhunter is checking on his men at various security details when his phone rings. He doesn’t recognize the number but he’s sure it’s Jim. He steps away from his team and answers the call.

“Swift! Is that you?”

“HH! Yeah…”

Headhunter lets out a small exhale of relief.

“I heard from Mean Jean! Damn, what happened man?”

Jim sighs and asks.

“Can you come by the hospital? I have a request.”

Headhunter scoffs and lightly scolds.

“Man, you _really_ stretching my favors! You have me in charge of a crazy ass heist then you _disappear?!_ ” He clucks his tongue. “ _Yeah_ … I can come. When is visiting hours till?”

“Thanks HH; I think till eight.”

“Okay, I can be by tonight. Want me to bring anything? Want some Coco Puffs?”

Jim laughs and says.

“Hell yeah, I want some Coco Puffs! I’ll see you when you get here.”

__

Seven-thirty in the evening Headhunter walks through the door with a small grocery bag. He sucks his teeth as he approaches Jim. A wide grin quickly spreads across his face as he takes in the bandaged man. He shakes his head.

Jim beams the ebony man a large smile.

“Thanks for coming.”

“You know for someone that almost died… you’re still a sexy bitch. Look at you all clean shaven, hair all did… nurses take care of you? They probably all _swoon_ over you, _eager_ to wash that dick of yours clean every day.”

Jim laughs and shakes his head.

“Mom and my aunt cleaned me up. Is that my Coco Puffs?”

Headhunter chuckles and quips.

“Yeah, I brought you Coco Puffs.”

Headhunter pulls a tray over and lays it across Jim’s lap and commences with serving him some cereal.

Jim immediately starts devouring the bowl and moans in pleasure. He turns to Headhunter as the leather-clad man plops down into a chair.

“I need you to relay a message for me. I need you to inform Zsasz that I’m alive.”

Headhunter nods.

“I’ll do this if you tell me what happened that night.”

Jim drinks down the milk and sets the empty cardboard bowl down.

“Penguin had my mother; he figured out it was me that blew up the license hub.”

Headhunter listens on as Jim tells him the events of that night. He sighs and shakes his head.

“Damn, that Penguin is one cold motherfucker. He hasn’t shown his face around Gotham since that night. He’s probably holed up at his mansion and I don’t _doubt_ for a minute that he’s regrouping. Don’t worry, I’ll relay to Zsasz that you’re fine.”

Jim nods and adds.

“Please express to him to not come to the hospital; my mother said cops are waiting for him to show. Also let him know I’ll be out of town to help her relocate. I’m not sure how long it’s going to take. I’ll try to get a new phone before I leave town.”

Headhunter stands and nods.

“Okay man, I will let him know. Once you get back, come by Mean Jean’s; the old man wants to tell you the tale of how we got _The Riddler_.”

Jim smiles.

“I will make Mean Jean’s my first stop.”

Headhunter plops another cereal bowl on the tray and pours more milk. He winks and leaves the milk by the bowl.

“Say man, consider our debt settled for the weapons and ammo. See you when you get back into town.”

Jim nods and watches as Headhunter leaves the room. Jim eats the second bowl of cereal; his thoughts linger on Victor.

_I hope he’s okay. After what happened, I’m sure he’s not well especially how mom described his state of mind on the way to the hospital. He probably thinks I’m dead. I will try to ease him when I get my phone. I just don’t want him insisting on coming to me. I know my mother feels for him but she won’t like it if he’s with us. Fuck. Hopefully, when Headhunter talks to him it will be enough to get him to be at peace._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In synch much???
> 
> As Owl explains below, about us parting ways to write the stuff with Zsasz and Jim, it made me chuckle when I read the part in “The Golem” with Zsasz’s nightmare.
> 
> I was actually thinking to myself that in some weird sense the nightmare that Jim experiences with his mirrored-Tetch version of himself could almost be an extension of what Zsasz dreamt up. 
> 
> Zsasz was kneeling down, horrified he shot Jim in his mindless killing state. Jim walks through a doorway and sees Victor on his knees with someone bleeding out. In the blood Jim sees himself. Then also Zsasz repeatedly dreaming of Jim in his bedroom. Jim dreaming of Zsasz in his bedroom... It blew me away. Still gives me the goosebumps!
> 
> SO MUCH SPIRITUAL CONNECTION!! UGH.
> 
> ~FC
> 
> ______
> 
> Okay, y’all. True story: 
> 
> Throughout our collab, FC and I have been uncannily in sync with one another that even I (who doesn’t really find that sorta thing crazy) have raised a brow. It’s been pretty wild. There have been several occasions when she’s written stuff and we’ve talked about the next day and I said, you know, funny enough, I had a passing thought/dream about… (insert whatever) and tada! It’s what she wrote or drew or had an idea to write or draw. 
> 
> This section is a perfect example.
> 
> Deya and I split up to work on our respective parts: she wrote this chapter chronicling Jim’s recovery and I wrote the last chapter where Victor suffers the h3ll of not knowing Jim’s fate. We had no idea what the other had cooking. So, needless to say, when we finally got back together again and I read her opening sequence with Jim’s dream in the hospital and saw how similar they were to Victor’s nightmares, I couldn’t help but laugh. She made a comment about how in sync we are with one another and I gotta say, my soul sister, FC, couldn’t possibly be more right on.
> 
> Even my “real life” partner-wifey tells me all the time, “You guys creep me out.” :D 
> 
> In other news:
> 
> * I personally love the fact that Big Momma Gordon was so worried about Zsasz/me. <3 _(Even Aunt Edna! :3)_
> 
> __
> 
> * I’m SO GLAD to see Gordlock back on the mend again. YAY! 
> 
> __
> 
> * And ohmiGAAAAH, the way my fanfic wifey writes Bullock is just f*cking inspired. 
> 
> _* Oh. Is it just me, or is Harvey Bullock the one person who goes through even more h3ll than Victor? *shrugs* Just sayin’, y’all! Oh wait! Don’t forget to read FC’s awesome “The Problem with Captain Bullock” if you haven’t already!_
> 
> * OH YEAH! AND we finally get some more of that Headhunter and Jim goodness? YASSS! 
> 
> }8> -o- 


	26. Ebony and Ivory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Headhunter heads straight to Victor’s place with Jim’s message only to find his friend in an alarming physical state.

—>  <—

Headhunter exits the hospital and eyes the two officers standing guard at the main entrance. When he first arrived, he noticed a patrol car going up and down the parking lot as well as an unmarked police vehicle circling the perimeter of the hospital. The officers give Headhunter a wary look but they don’t say anything.

Headhunter stops and smirks as he says.

“Have a great night officers.”

The two cops grumble a quick reciprocatory farewell to him.

Headhunter makes his way to his newly licensed Supra. He gets in the driver’s seat and takes out his phone.

 _Let’s see who will be receptive into letting me in to talk to Victor. Definitely don’t want to talk to Tash right now. Woman. Has. Her. Hands._ **_Full_** _. Sista X it is._

Headhunter turns on his car and closes the driver’s side door as he waits for Xochitl to answer her phone.

It’s already past time for Zsasz’s next round of sedatives when Xochitl’s phone rings.

“Dude. Didn’t you mean to call Astrid? ‘Cause I’m sure as HELL am NOT suckin’ yo _dick!_ ”

Headhunter busts out laughing and sucks his teeth.

“I know _damn_ well which number I dialed, girl! How are things at camp right about now?”

She sucks in a huge breath and puffs out a sigh.

“Dude. I’m fuckin’ _smokin’_ again. I’m back up to almost two packs of Luckies a day. How the _fuck_ do you think?”

Wendell figured the girls were stressed but had no idea that even Xochitl was bugging out— _and smoking_.

“Mmm! Sounds like you all dealing with some nasty shit. I was wondering if I can come over? I need to speak to Victor.”

She sucks in a breath and thinks a minute. Her reply is hesitant.

“Ya know… That might not be such a bad idea. It might do him so good. When ya thinkin’ ‘bout droppin’ by?”

Headhunter looks at his watch and replies.

“How about in the next fifteen minutes? So… Victor in a bad way right now? What’s going on?”

Xochitl, usually snappy with a reply and never too serious, takes a long time to answer given all that’s happened the past two weeks with Victor.

“He uh… he’s not so good right now, Wendy.”

She blinks back tears and swallows, trying to keep her voice steady. She sniffs and puffs out a sigh.

“I know you know about Penguin. Street’s all abuzz with that shit, but… look man. When you come over? Just don’t be surprised. He’s… _different_. Wendy… we’ve been fuckin'  _sedating him_ just to keep his ass settled down.”

Headhunter sighs, his voice taking on a reassuring tone.

“Listen mama, perhaps I can help. Hang tight. I will be over shortly. Save a cig for me when I get there.”

She nods and wipes her face.

“Yeah man. I was just about to give him his next dose. I should’ve already given it to him, but I’ll wait. He’s still gonna be kinda out of it. We try sneaking it in his food, but he doesn’t really _eat_ anymore… or _fuck…_ or _anything_. Dude, you know what’s mine is yours. Well, not _everything_. You gotta ask Astrid for all _that_. Oh, she ain’t here. You want me to call her too?”

Headhunter chuckles at Xochitl’s rambling and replies.

“No, this isn’t one of them calls. I’m coming strictly to talk to Victor. Well, let’s see if I can turn that frown upside down on his ass. I will be there soon; see you in a bit.”

“Right on, man. See ya.”

—

Headhunter pulls his Supra into the garage across from Victor and the girls’ building. He quickly makes his way across the street and down the alley to the single point entrance. He rings the buzzer.

Xochitl buzzes Wendell in and runs for the door with a big smile on her face.

“Mother _fucker!_ How you _been?!_ _Damn,_ man. You the _first_ fuckin’ thang I’ve smiled about in… well… a _minute_.”

Headhunter pulls Xochitl into a hug and replies.

“I’ve had my hands full with Penguin disappearing; these gangs are making security a premium job amongst other things. Not to sound rushed or anything but where’s my boy at?”

She shakes her head.

“Naw, man. I get it. It’s just been… well, a _bummer_ around here. He’s in his quarters right now. We never leave him alone anymore, but… since you were comin’ over…”

She shrugs and nods up to Victor’s room.

“Knock yourself out.”

Headhunter immediately heads to Victor’s room and knocks on the door with his customary “Shave and a Haircut” knock. He calls out in a sing-song voice.

“ _Snazzy Zsaszy_ …”

Victor’s lying face-up on his bed looking at the ceiling, vaguely aware of the knock. He blinks and scrunches his face.

“Wendy?”

He lifts his head and looks to the open door. His reply comes slowly.

“Oh… _hey,_ man.”

Victor slowly rises to meet his best friend.

Headhunter’s widening eyes scan Victor’s physical condition as he shuffles over to the doorway.

_Holy shit._

Wendell’s alarm grows as he assesses the severity of Victor’s weight loss and the deep gouges of self-inflicted wounds that aren’t his customary tally marks. He grabs Victor by the shoulders and pushes him back into the bedroom. He examines Victor’s chest and arms in the bedroom light. His brow furrows once his eyes meet Victor’s.

_Here I thought he was just bummed over losing his cushy gig with Penguin. He must’ve been in it deep with Jim because I never seen him this messed up over anything! This man is one foot in the grave!_

His hands go up to the sides of Zsasz’s face as he asks.

“Say man, how alert do you feel on a scale of one to ten?”

Victor slowly blinks.

“Dude. What?”

Headhunter shakes his head as he releases Victor’s face. He takes in a deep breath and lets out an audible sigh. He walks around scanning the room; anything and everything that Victor could use to hurt himself was removed. He scratches his head as he leans against a wall by a window— _that is nailed shut_. He looks at outside and sucks his teeth.

“Lots of word on the street about what happened to your former boss, Penguin.”

Victor presses his lips together and rubs down his face, remembering the incidents of that night and how they ended. For just a little while he’d forgotten with Wendell’s surprise visit, but the memories come flooding back. He nods and puffs out a sigh, rubbing his mouth.

“What word is _that?_ ”

The dark man scratches at his chin as his eyes remain glued outside. He can’t bear to see Zsasz in his current state. His tone measured as he replies to his unstable and pacified friend.

“Well, he lost his power over licensed crime. Some dashing debonaires stole his most prized possession and holding it hostage to keep him from enforcing Pax Penguina. Also, of course, what happened at the warehouse. Now that he doesn’t have you and your team, rival gangs are causing a mess again. Oswald hasn’t been seen in Gotham City since that night. So I gather.”

Victor rubs his forehead and thinks about Jim clinging to life in his arms on the way to the hospital. He still doesn’t know shit. If he’s dead or alive and just not forgiving him. He juts out his jaw and pulls down the corners of his mouth, nodding.

“Sounds about right. I uh… I dunno much about what else’s goin' on. Just what The Girls tell me. Tasha’s kinda runnin’ the shop right now.”  
  
He tries to keep his mind off Jim by moving to matters of business.

“Speakin' of, any chance you got anything for my guys right now? I was gonna send ‘em to you. Tash says there are still a lotta people out there who don’t wanna do business with us ‘cause of Penguin and his Pax.”

Headhunter finally turns to look at him, surprised that job prospects are so hard to come by that Victor would send his own men down his way. He nods.

“Sure man, I got plenty of work. Say, since you’re kind of unemployed and from the looks of it could use a night out, how about you and I go meet up with them twins I texted you about? But you know, brush that mouth of yours; _wash your ass_ … _dress_ and maybe pour some coffee down your throat so you aren’t a goddamn zombie.”

Wendell smiles as he approaches Victor.

Victor feels that fucking welling in his eyes again and swallows. He takes a breath and offers a weak smile, shaking his head.

“Naw, man. Thanks.” He gives Wendy a half-hearted elbow. “I’m sure you can handle ‘em all on your own.”

Headhunter dismisses the comment to pointedly look at Victor’s neck. He shakes his head and gives the sullen man a sly smirk. He inhales a deep breath then sucks his teeth.

“Why _ain’t_ you wearing the collar that I got you?”

Victor puffs out a snort and _finally_ stretches his first genuine smile in weeks. He softly chuckles, shaking his head.

“I _forgot_ about that. Dude.  _Seriously_. _Who the fuck_ is Swift Hand?”

Headhunter narrows his eyes then throws his head back and lets loose a thunderous laugh. He returns his gaze to Victor and raises an eyebrow as he mischievously says.

“ _Swift Hand_ _?_ Oh, I guess you don’t know him by his bounty hunter name. He was the dude that I texted you about that was my flatmate for a bit. He’s recently got into an altercation and is in the hospital. But he’s doing really well and healing up.”

The bounty hunter’s smiles grows larger with each second that passes. He rubs his chin and waits for his friend to make the connection.

Victor’s face scrunches in confusion before Wendell’s words slowly begin sinking in. _Wasn’t Jim a bounty hunter for awhile?_ He blinks and shakes his head.

“Hold up.” He stammers. “Are—are you tellin’ me what I _think_ you’re…? Jim was… Wait…”

Headhunter grabs Victor’s shoulders and says.

“ _Jim Gordon,_  man! He sent me to tell you he is alive and well! He couldn’t tell you himself ‘cause his phone got destroyed in the shooting. _Now listen Victor;_ he don’t want you coming to the hospital. There are cops all over the place; I seen it. They will _snatch yo ass_ if you so much as show that pale face of yours within a mile of the hospital.”

Victor covers his mouth with his hand and his shoulders slump in relief. He takes huge breath and nods.

“Yeah. It’s buttoned up tight. I saw. Is he...? Did you _see_ him? How does he look?" 

Victor bites his lower lip, arches a brow and shakes his head.

"Well, I mean, I _know_ how he looks. But  _really_. You _saw_ him, right?”

The ebony skinned man smiles and nods.

“That _sexy bastard_ makes getting all busted up _fucking hot!_ Well, his right shoulder is _really_ jacked, so that’s bugging him. He also had some other things like a… collapsed lung?  Anyways, he’s recovering. He also said to tell you that he is going out of town to relocate his mother. He said he will try to get another phone before leaving. He’ll contact you when he can.”

Victor places both hands on his head, relieved and practically giddy with the news. He smiles and nods.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

Wendell’s comment reminds Victor of the time Jim got banged up after the attack on Penguin’s club. He stretches a wide smile and slowly shakes his head, sighing wistfully.

“He _does_ look sexy, doesn’t he?”

Wendell shakes his head and looks Victor up and down. He sucks his teeth and taunts.

“Yeah… ya dun went and got all tamed— _got yourself all booty whipped!_ I can’t say I blame you.”

Headhunter digs into his pocket and takes out his phone.

“In case you forgot what his sexy ass looks like…”

He brings up a picture of Jim in the shower.

“Say man, why only twenty tally marks? I would have figured a fuck machine like you would have that tight little ass covered in them?”

Headhunter eyes Victor mischievously.

Victor stares in disbelief at the photo of Jim bare-assed in the shower with this tallies visible on the small of his back. His mouth slowly grows slack. He blinks, then looks Wendell square in the eye, narrowing his gaze.

“Wendy… I’m gonna fuckin’ _kill_ you.”

Victor tries to grab the arm Wendell’s using to hold the phone.

Headhunter laughs as he jukes and rolls out of Victor’s range.

“I take it them sedatives are still fuckin’ wit ya. I think that’s my cue to leave.”

Headhunter dodges and makes for the door when Victor lunges at him again. He laughs over his shoulder and remarks.

“Ease up man! I look forward to escaping your clutches another day. Peace!”

Wendell races out of Victor’s quarters and runs into Xochitl.

“Say sista, let’s go get that cig now.”

“Hell yeah, man. Wait. How’s Vic—”  
  
“WENDY! I’M GONNA FUCKIN’ _KILL_ YOU!”

Xochitl looks up at Wendy’s huge grin.

“Dude. What the _fuck_ did you do?”

Wendell looks back towards Victor’s room and ushers Xochitl out as he laughs.

“I told him Jim Gordon is alive and well. Then I showed him a pic of his boyfriend in the shower when he was staying with me.”

He shrugs.

Xochitl quickly covers her mouth with a fist and stifles a laugh.

“You’re such an asshole, Wendy. I LOVE IT! We better _bounce_. We’ve only got him on oral sedatives now. They ain’t gonna last forever!”

They race out of the door and down the alley. Wendell asks as he jogs.

“Wanna see?”

“Well, even _I think_ Mr. Buttoned-Up and Uptight is pretty fine, even for a dude— _and a cop_. I‘m not gonna lie, I _kinda_ wanna see what all the fuss is about but… _wait_. Is it a _dick_ pic?”

“I wish. It’s just his backside in the shower.”

She chuckles and shrugs.

“Yeah sure. What the fuck? Lemme see what’s got Zsasz all strung out.”

Headhunter brings up the pic and throws her his phone as they cross the street.

Xochitl brings up the phone to her face as she jogs… until she slows down.  
  
“Wait. What the fuck?”

She holds her fist to her mouth and stares back at Wendell, wide-eyed.

“Did Victor _tally_ this motherfucker?”

“Yup, according to Jim, for each fuckfest cum session.”

“Dude. But where the fuck are all the other tallies? I’m surprised Gordon’s not covered head to toe in that shit!”

Headhunter laughs and nods.

“That’s what I asked and Victor tried to attack me.”

Xochitl cackles.

“Well… wanna know a little secret about Gordon?

Headhunter holds out two fingers waiting for a cigarette as they walk to the garage.

“What secret is that?”

Xochitl hands him a Lucky and her Zippo as she shakes her head and tries not to laugh.

“His safe word is _‘waffles’_.”

Headhunter busts out laughing as he lights his smoke. He takes his phone back from Xochitl and begins texting Victor.

 _“Yo, man…_  
_WAFFLES?”_

By now, Victor’s made it outside. He glances down at the text as he makes his way across the street.

“XOCH! I’m gonna fucking _kill you_ too!”

Victor tries to keep up his pace, but quickly slows. He’s stunned to find himself winded and tired by the exertion and threat. His eyes widen with mild alarm.

 _Oh._ ** _Fuck_** **_me_** _._

Victor bends over, rests his hands on his knees to get his bearings. He takes a few deep breaths before shouting back.

“Ah, fuck it! Never mind! This means I can get my _shit back_ now, right?”

Rather than sprint across the street like he normally does, Victor leisurely strolls over to join his two favorite jackasses. He chuckles and shakes his head at himself, wondering how much more shit the pair has in store for him.

__

The last night at the hospital:

Jim is in the middle of reading when he sees Harvey enter his room. He stares in shock when Gabrielle quickly follows him in. He smiles as he blurts out.

“Gabrielle!”

The tall Italian man rushes to his bedside and leans in planting a soft kiss on Jim’s lips. Harvey quickly turns away as he brings up a hand to mask the scene from his sights. The salty police captain quickly walks back out of the room.

“Jim! I was sick with worry when I heard you were in the hospital. I took the next available flight over!”

Jim shakes his head and softly says.

“Gabe, you shouldn’t have. It’s not safe here for you.”

Gabrielle shrugs.

“I know but I was wrought with guilt that you are here suffering from gunshot wounds and I am in Positano celebrating… ”

Jim inhales sharply and quickly cuts him off when he exclaims.

_“Gabrielle, I’m back with my ex!”_

The tall man takes a step back from Jim and looks down at him, confused. He inhales a quick gasp of air; his mouth presses tightly and his body stiffens. He shakes his head and tries to process what he just heard. He blurts out.

_“Cosa hai detto?!”_

Jim’s brow crinkles as he continues.

“I didn’t have the chance to tell you before I got shot. _I’m sorry;_ I _never_ meant to keep it from you. I’ve been in the hospital for two weeks with no way of contacting you. I’m sorry you flew all this way just to hear this.”

Gabrielle turns away from Jim and he runs a hand through his hair. A deep frown contorts his smooth handsome features. He growls out.

“He’s _dangerous_ and he’s hurt you! _Did you forget that?!_ Don’t you remember how he hurt your friend and captain! We had to rush him to the hospital! And _you_ could barely stand or move! Jim, this is crazy! This is the man you chose over _me?!_ I’ve wanted nothing but to make you happy and safe! I would have given you everything! _I thought you wanted me!_ ”

Gabrielle bites his lower lip and turns his hardened gaze to Jim as he bitterly adds.

“You’ve led me on; it’s not fair!”

Gabrielle brings both hands to his head; his breaths are hard and heavy. His anger swiftly building as he envisions that sadistic vile man winning Jim over. A man who always seems to be covered in blood each time he sees him.

Harvey stands at the doorway of the room watching on. The raised level of Gabrielle’s voice alerted him that Jim broke it to his Italian hunk that it’s over. Harvey thought about intervening and calming the outraged man. However, Gabrielle is voicing everything he wishes he could have said to Jim, before it all went downhill. Harvey lowers his gaze and clenches his jaw.

“He’s going to hurt you really bad one day. How many times does that need to happen before you let him go?”

Jim looks away unable to answer the question.

Gabrielle glares at Jim and shakes his head. He turns and makes for the door, forcibly pushing a small table out of his way. A pitcher of water and a couple of cups fall to the floor as the tall man storms past Harvey and out of Jim’s room.

Harvey peers at the retreating man’s back and hollers out.

“If it’s any consolation Gabrielle, I was rootin’ for you!”

Harvey looks over at Jim who is staring at his lap. The captain comes in and retrieves the fallen pitcher of water and cups. He then heads into the bathroom and grabs a towel to clean up the puddle. He returns to the room but pauses and glances at Jim.

“You know what Gabrielle said is true. And I bet my one _good_ hand that you’ve worried yourself over Victor hurtin’ you again. I know you want me to shut up ‘bout the whole topic but that’s not gonna happen, Jimbo. I know you see somethin’ in him and that you hope it’ll grow and replace the old Zsasz.”

Harvey drops the towel to the ground as he works it through the spill with a foot. He adds somberly.

“Despite how protective he is of you and your mom, he’s still out there— _killin’ people_. Could be someone else’s mother.”

Jim finally glances up at Harvey, unable to reply or argue to the statement. Harvey gives Jim a sad look and adds.

“I get you love him and… _I love you_. I’m _never_ gonna stop remindin’ you what a huge mistake it is to hold onto him.”

Jim nods as he turns his head away. He sniffles a couple of times. Harvey stops cleaning the water and lets out a huge sigh. He ambles over to Jim and puffs out.

“But what do I know? I mean, I’ve seen you pull some crazy ass ‘miracles’... ‘ _Hail, Marys_ ’ even. If anyone can change a psychopath, maybe it’s you. But don’t expect a cheerin’ section on my end. If he does change, it just means I see less and less of you after work.”

Jim chuckles and shakes his head.

“I can always bring him along when we go out to Bernardo’s.”

Harvey points a finger at Jim and barks.

“No way! Absolutely not!”

Jim shrugs and adds with a sly smirk.

“He’s a lightweight drinker; gets drunk on one beer. His night would be done ten minutes in and he’d be passed out before you or I would get a buzz.”

Harvey raises an eyebrow and laughs.

“I could draw dicks on his knocked out ass! I change my mind— _bring him!_ ”

Jim laughs and eyes his smug best friend adoringly.

“Just once.”

Harvey belly laughs and nods.

__

Next day:

Harvey comes through the door with coffee.

“Mornin’, ladies! Jimbo!”

He grabs the small black coffee and hands it to Jim who is in a wheelchair with an orderly waiting to cart him out. He then hands Edna a cappuccino and Irene a black tea. Harvey asks as he looks back and forth between the three.

“Are we ready to book or do we needa wait for the docs?”

Irene sips her tea and shakes her head.

“We’ve signed a million pieces of paperwork and already got his prescriptions. We are ready to get the _hell out of here!_ ”

Edna chortles over her coffee.

“Amen!”

Harvey grabs a couple of bags of Jim’s belongings from Irene and Edna.

“Okay, Jim, I have movers set and ready to pack your stuff into storage. I’ll hang onto the keys when you get back. Oh, also your motorcycle’s at motor pool in the precinct.”

Jim smiles and nods at Harvey.

“Thanks Harv, one less thing to stress over. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

After checking out of the hotel, they head to the store to get another phone for Jim.

Jim slowly walks into the store with Edna while his mother waits in the van. He cringes and huffs with each step as his healing wounds complain. After thirty minutes, he walks out with his new phone and stares at all the text messages and voicemails from friends and family but the only one in particular he cares about at the moment is Victor. After Edna helps him back into the van Jim scrolls through the messages. His eyes welling when he reads the texts from Zsasz.

_“thinking of you”_

_“don’t keep me waiting forever”_

_“you ok?”_

_“you promised_ _me_ _”_

Jim takes a deep breath in and goes to his voicemails. He sits and listens to voicemails from Mean Jean, Headhunter, and Alvarez. He finally gets to one from Victor.

“Jim… it’s me. I uh… I hope you’re okay. Let me know… _please_.”

Jim can feel his throat constrict. He looks out the passenger window and continues listening to other messages.

“Detective Gordon, this is Solange from The Foxglove. Bring yo sexy ass on over when you have the time.”

Jim crinkles his brow in confusion on how she got his number. Then he hears one from Sean.

“Jim! You’re so awesome! We all know it was you— _that stopped the Pax._ I gave your number to Solange. She wants to talk to you! Miss you!”

Jim continues listening wanting to know if Victor left any other messages. He comes across another.

“I haven’t heard from you. I hope you’re alright. I uh… miss you. _I love you, Jim_.”

Jim’s heart skips a beat with the proclamation. Tears start rolling down his cheeks as he hangs his head; several sobs escape him before he can stop himself. He hears Edna up front in the driver’s seat call out.

“James, honey are you okay? Do I need to stop and give you more medication?”

Jim shakes his head and croaks out.

“No, I’m fine.”

Edna looks back at Jim through the rearview mirror then glances over at Irene who turns in her seat to regard Jim.

“James, perhaps you should call him, let him know you are okay?”

Jim nods his head but continues with the voicemails.

“Jim… Is it because of Bullock?  I remember what you said… about not forgiving me. I just… I thought he _killed_ you. I-I-I… couldn’t _stop_ myself.”

Victor’s voice breaks. Jim hangs his head and clenches his eyes shut as his face contorts.

“I’m _sorry_. _Really_.”  
  
Sounds of sobbing.

“Jim _please_ forgive me. I _love_ you and I dunno how to… I just can’t… _be_ without you anymore. _Remember?_ ”

Jim inhales a few sharps breaths and wipes his face. He wants to talk to Victor but not with his mother and Edna listening in. Plus, he doesn’t want to lose what little composure he has left by hearing Victor’s voice. He knows if he hears him he will insist that they turn the van around. Jim thinks for a minute and begins tapping out a text.

_Victor,_

_I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get a hold of you till now._

_My phone was destroyed when I was shot._  
_I’m on the road with my mother_ _and Edna at the moment or I would call. I heard_  
_your messages. I’m sorry you had to wait so long._

_I will call you tonight when I’m alone._

_I love you_

 

_it’s ok babe_

_just glad you’re ok_

_i love you too_

_i look forward to it_

__

Jim, his mother, and his aunt make it to Rolling Greens by late afternoon. Irene apprehensively crosses the threshold of her home. Edna charges in and searches every room of the house and makes sure all the windows are locked. She then heads to the sliding glass door and into the backyard. She gives the backyard a pass and notices the gate is open. She quickly closes it and heads back into the house. She closes the sliding glass door and locks it.

“Irene come sit at the table. I will make us some tea. You two hungry?”

Irene shakes her head but says.

“Just the tea Edna, thank you.”

Jim shakes his head and says.

“I will be upstairs. I will come down in a bit. I need a nap.”

Edna nods and begins a kettle.

Jim heads upstairs to his old room and opens the door. He looks around as the memories of the last time he and Victor visited come to mind. Jim sits on the bed and carefully leans against the headboard. He takes his phone from his front pocket and dials out to Victor.

Victor immediately answers, his voice hopeful, relieved… _happy._  He drawls warmly.

“ _Hi_ , Jim.”

Jim smiles really big and returns the greeting. His heart racing at the sound of Victor’s voice.

“Victor, baby. How are you?”

Victor puffs out a relieved sigh.

“A lot better now. I was… _really_ worried about you— _and_ your mom. How ya feelin’? Your mom? She okay?”

Jim nods his head as a tear rolls down his face. He replies through his sniffles.

“I’m okay. I’m on some good drugs. They make me tired most of the time. Fuck, each day feels like a blur. Mom is doing fine. Her ankle is still healing, hurts her ever so often. She was really worried about you. She wanted to call you sooner but I told her not to. I was scared you would come to the hospital. Harvey had a couple of units on patrol till I was released.”

Victor smiles as he recalls the last time Jim was medicated (the last time he was shot). He’s also surprisingly touched to hear about Mrs. Gordon’s concern for him.

”She’s got spunk, Jim.” He puffs out a sigh. “I get it—the ' _not_ calling'. I actually _tried_ to go see you but Gotham General was buttoned up tight. I uh even saw Bullock. Jim… I’m _really sorry_ about that. What I did—when I told you I _wouldn’t._ ”

Jim swallows then promptly scoffs and says.

“Harvey defended you, unbelievable as that sounds. Victor, I was the one that killed all those people that took out licenses. I also blew up the license hub that night. I lied to you but I’m sure you guessed it. Headhunter told me if I kept it up that I would earn your animosity over it. I’m sorry that I believed you gave up my mother. I was sure you were angry with me.”

“Wait. Bullock did _what?_ Uh... _Okaaaay._  Wait a minute. _You_ did all that? I thought it was the _other_ guy.”

Victor puffs out a soft chuckle.

“Jim, I figured if you _wanted_ me to know, you’da _told_ me. It’s the same thing _I’d_ do. But, I get you thinkin’ that. Wendy’s known me a _real_ long time. Knows me better than most. If it’d been anyone else? Sure. But I couldn’t do that to you… _or_ your mom. Remember on the rooftop when I told you that we understand each other?”

Jim smiles and purrs in the phone.

“Yeah, I remember that night very well. I know what you meant by those words only it took me awhile to fully realize it.”

“You always do what you think is right. You always fight, even when there’s no chance of winning. It’s who you are, Jim. I saw it when we first met… and every time after that. It’s why I’ve always respected you… why I told you about Don Falcone’s hit. You’re a rare breed: a good man… _and_ a warrior.” Victor puffs out a soft breath. “I think it’s why I love you. The fact you’re smokin’ hot and a total badass have nothing to do with it. I swear.”

Jim inhales a deep breath and lets out a small chuckle with his last sentence.

“You’re the first person I can be myself with.”

There’s a knock on the door and Jim sees that his mother is standing there with a small smile on her face. She asks with a hushed voice.

“Is that Victor?”

Jim nods.

“May I speak to him?”

Jim quickly tells Victor.

“Mom wants to speak to you.”

He gets up, walks over to her and hands her the phone.

“Victor honey, how are you?”

He sighs with relief and softly clucks.

“Better knowing you two are okay—and _safe_. How’s your ankle? Oh and Edna? She takin’ good care of you two?”  
  
Irene smiles and says.

“Edna is a great mother hen to us both. My ankle still tender but it’s healing. I worried about you, sweetheart. Please lay low for a bit. I’m sorry things are the way they are. I so would have loved to see you again under different circumstances. I won’t take up too much of y’all's time talking to each other. But I wanted to say thank you for saving me and Jim. I will keep you in my prayers.”

Victor’s surprised at how moved he is by her words. He blinks back the welling in his eyes and swallows.

“Yes, ma’am. No need to thank me. You take care, Mrs. Gordon. Oh, and give my dance partner my best.”

Irene giggles and replies.

“I sure will, hon.”

Irene hands Jim the phone and kisses his cheek. She carefully makes her way back downstairs. Jim smiles and heads back to his bed.

“Victor…”

“Yeah, babe.”

Jim can feel his last set of pain relief kicking in, making him sleepy.

“I don’t know how long I will be here, but once we get mom all packed, we are driving another four hours to where Edna lives. It could be awhile before I make it back to Gotham, but I hope we can call each other every night.”

Jim shakes his head and chuckles incredulously.

“Crazy how we got to this point.”

Victor chuckles in spite of himself.

“Didn’t see this one coming either, babe. Take all the time you need. Just get better… and try _not_ get shot anytime soon… that last one really worried me. Oh, hey. Before you go, I’ve been meanin’ to ask you somethin’.”

Jim sighs sleepily as he slumps down onto the bed.

“What is it, babe?”

“So uh… that first morning at Wendy’s? What did he make you for breakfast?”

Jim scratches his head as he lets out a silent yawn. He thinks a moment.

‘Ummm… I think… yeah, he made me an omelette.”

Victor suddenly goes quiet for a few moments, before inhaling a huge breath and sucking his teeth.

“See. Thing is, Jim. About Wendy? He only makes omelettes for people he sees naked or bangs. So… how _exactly_ is it Wendy has naked pics of you _and I don’t?_ ”

Jim snaps out of his haze and sits up; a confused look contorts his face.

“Huh?! He has naked pictures of me? I _never_ … Ooooooooh.”

“‘ _Oooooooh?’_ Care to enlighten me, Jim?”

Jim laughs and curses under his breath.

“I think he took them the night I came home with him when I was drunk.”

 _“‘The night you came home with him when you were_ **_drunk_** _’?”_

Zsasz clears his throat.

“Like I said. Care to enlighten me?”

“ _It’s not like that_. I went looking for him to buy weapons and he made me go out with him to Scarlet's. He got me hammered and let me crash at his place. I threw up all over myself so I asked if I could use his shower. I think that sly asshole snuck those pictures when I was trying not pass out under the water. Well… and umm…. He uh….”

Jim starts laughing nervously.

 _“And ‘well… he uh’_ **_what_** _, Jim?”_

Jim continues.

“He made me show him where else on my body you marked me before he would lend me weapons. And… he… he did say that he was going to fuck me if I didn’t repay him. BUT that _never_ happened! Oh and he grabbed my ass.”

Jim deliberately leaves out Wendell kissing him. He didn’t want Victor out there on a murderous rampage over something that was nothing more than a peck on the lips.

Victor slowly inhales and exhales a deep breath before he replies.

“I see." Victor remains silent for a moment. "Well, you’re probably tired and need to rest, so… I’m gonna letcha go. But… before I do, I just want ‘chya to know I love you… and I’m not going anywhere… but I’m _probably_ gonna have to kill Wendy now.”

Jim laughs as he yawns.

“Play nice with HH, he made sure we knew where you were at all times when I was out hunting and blowing things up. Hell, he even put a tracker on your car for me. I can’t wait to feel you in my arms again; I love you baby…”

Victor laughs incredulously.

“That. fucking. _asshole_. Well, _that_ mystery’s solved. We thought it was Penguin. Try not to get anything important shot or blow up too much shit at your mom’s. I promise I’ll do my best to stay outta custody. _Try_ to do the same. I’d like to see you _sooner_ than later. I love you too... _‘Swift Hand’_.”

Jim chuckles.

“Ah… you found out my bounty hunter name. And the only thing I’m in danger of is getting is _fat_. I will talk to you tomorrow babe. Bye.”

“I can’t wait to get my hands on you when you get back here, whether you’re built for speed— _or for comfort_. ‘Night, babe.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this chapter. We had many amusing conversations about Headhunter giving Zsasz shit throughout the fic. I wanted HH to be the one to deliver the good news to Zsasz but I wanted Wendell play a little with the distraught assassin before he ponied up the information. The buck-nekkid pic of Jim in the shower, the collar, the texts messages were are all leading to that little pay off in this chapter here. It makes me so damn happy every time I read it. =)
> 
> Also I had written Gabrielle a little more understanding than what is on the final draft of this chapter. I was told models that are rich and act like mature adults is work of PURE FICTION. Not by Owl... just a comment sometime ago. (Yeah I blew that comment way out of proportion) SO I made him angry. lol I mean really, this is a drama. Can't have drama if people act mature... =D I know I never dived into why Gabe would even hook up with Jim. But going from the television show... Jim has some of the damnedest sexiest women hopping on his dick. Why not a hot damnedest sexiest man too? Also I was going for Gabe having a bit of hero worship with Jim. (According to Boxcutter, Jim saved his family).
> 
> Stick around as we draw closer to the conclusion of the series. In the next chapter, I/Jim concocted a surprise for Jess/Zsasz. Like seriously... she had no idea I was going to do this. =D
> 
> ~FC
> 
> ______
> 
> Ha! What FC said. Honestly, that was some funny sh!t. When she first pitched that idea I was kinda dubious. I was like _“You mean to tell me Wendy really gonna go up in there and f*ck with Zsasz while his lionesses are in that den after all the h3ll they done gone through with him?”_ But, as you can see, she f*ckin’ NAILED that sh!t. F*ckin’ HILARIOUS!
> 
> But seriously though. FC dreamed up so many delicious things in this chapter:
> 
> Yeah, like Gabrielle’s visit. Her initial drafts of that part of the story? I kinda thought Mr. Hot Italian Model was so f*cking calm about getting his &ss dumped. FC & I had another funny convo where she suggested he go ape sh!t and throw a buncha sh!t around & break stuff and I was like, _“Aww, h3ll no! Then Jim would want Gabrielle again and we’d have to add another eleventy thousand words to this already epic tome!”_ But seriously though. Gabrielle done dropped some TRUTH on Jimbo! (Not that I don’t love my Zsaszy now but… Excelsior 865’s gotta point!)
> 
> Let’s see. What else? OH YEAH! Holy sh!t! F*ckin’ Harvey Bullock finally gettin' REAL with Jim. That’s all I’m sayin’. Still though, even after breakin' down said realness, my favorite work married couple still love each other and have fun. (Still shakes my head and imagines a passed out Victor Zsasz and Harvey Bullock drawing d!cks all over him because it’s SO. DAMB. FUNNY! xD)
> 
> Last but not least: I F*CKING L<3VED Big Momma Gordon tellin’ Victor to “lay low for a bit”. Like I _can’t even!_ It was the most adorable damb thing. I clutched my heart and got _all_ verklempt. It’s been a while since FC dreamed that up and it _still_ fills me with heart eye emojis!
> 
> Oh and uh… yeah. After reading Deya’s LAST little comment? Picture Jess leaning back in her chair, biting her lower lip, shaking her head and chuckling.
> 
> _*rubs down her mouth and laughs at herself*_
> 
> Uh… yeah… to say Jim/Deya surprised Victor/Jess in the upcoming chapter is probably a wee bit of an understatement. For any of you reading this, FC kinda… uh… *shakes head* Well, I guess you’re just gonna have to keep reading to find out, won’t cha?
> 
> }8> -o- Jess


	27. Memory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim returns to Gotham. After being away for a couple of months, he sets up a surprise clue hunt for Victor.

—>j<—

Jim spent the last two months helping his mother move and going to his follow up doctor appointments. When he traveled to Gotham for his check-ups, he opted to keep his visits secret from Victor. Each appointment was not only difficult physically but mentally as well. There were many times he almost called Victor but he wanted to surprise him and make their first time reuniting a special occasion. Also he wanted to ensure he could handle _some_ physical exertion. Jim couldn’t do much to recoup the strength and agility he lost while recovering; his mother and his aunt wouldn’t allow anything beyond walking and his physical therapy exercises.

A week ago, he sealed the purchase of a new apartment with money he stashed for himself during his time with Headhunter. He then paid a visit to Solange at the Foxglove. She awarded him permanent membership when the word got out that he was responsible for stopping Pax Penguina. He also went in hopes of extracting a favor of her and the establishment. Much to Jim’s surprise, the Foxglove proprietor agreed as long as she can later cash in a huge favor of her choosing.

Jim also told Harvey he’ll be into work in a few days. His best friend already has a _‘welcome back’_ party in the works at Bernardo’s.

It’s early afternoon and he’s catching up with his cohorts at Mean Jean’s bar.

Jim walks into the freezer and looks at Edward’s ice block. He notices the frozen block is jagged and cracked, with numerous lacerations on either side. The bottom of Edward’s ice slab is mostly worn away; Jim points to it.

“His icy prison looks really jacked up. This happened when you pulled him through the ruined front doors of The Iceberg Lounge?”

Headhunter nods as he swallows his Granny shot in its entirety. He smirks at the iced Riddler and replies.

“We had difficulties getting him on the truck. Do you know how hard it is to load a flatbed with a large human ice cube when you have people shooting at you? Good thing we had the numbers to keep suppression fire. Mean Jean jumped in the driver’s seat of the truck and pulled The Riddler halfway down the block before we loaded him.”

Mean Jean cackles.

“That was fun! Look here what I got. I was saving it for you, Swift.”

The muscle-bound grey fox holds up a spare weapon from Freeze’s cache. Jim and Headhunter both duck when he swings it around.

“It doesn’t have much juice left, me and the boys been using it. There’s a canister there, we think that’s what he uses to refill these glowing pods.

Jim looks over towards the back of the freezer and sees a large container with a blue light indicating levels. Jean hands him the weapon. Jim shakes his head and remarks.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with this but I think someone I know might like to examine it. Thanks, Jean!”

Headhunter makes his way out of the freezer and says.

“Swift, can you hang out tonight?”

Jim replies.

“Can’t, I’m meeting up with Victor tonight.”

Wendell eyes Jim up and down as the casually dressed detective follows him out. A evil smirk plays on his lips as he asks.

“Is that what you’re wearing, _Waffles_ _?_ ”

Jim points a finger at Wendell’s face and quickly says.

“No! Cut that out!”

Wendell chuckles and raises his hands. Jim beams him a large defeated smile and shakes his head.

“No, I’m not wearing this. I don’t plan on seeing Victor till ten this evening. I have things to take care of before then. I should go.”

Jim turns and addresses Mean Jean as he closes his freezer door.

“Jean, I’ll have Harvey come by and pick up The Riddler, hopefully in a couple of days.”

Jean nods and laughs.

“I’ve started talking to him in the mornings. Gonna miss my coffee buddy.”

Jim smirks and shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t like him much if he was thawed out. I’ll see you two later.”

Jim leaves in a hurry; he has plans to set in motion and not a lot of time before then. He has a surprise for Victor and hopes he will follow the clues. Jim placed the first one in Victor’s Impala earlier that morning. The note reads:

 

 _We were standing at the ring. I didn’t think_  
_you noticed me but you did. Like kismet_  
_we found each other somehow._  
_Long road before us back then_  
_compared to where we are now._

_~Jim_

 

_P.S. To find the next clue, the tip is in the messages. Keep the clues for when we are finally face to face._

  
— >z<—

Now that word’s _finally_ gotten out that Zsasz is no longer affiliated with Cobblepot, things have gotten busy.

Very, _very_ busy.

And _lucrative_.

He enjoys doing his own thing, freelancing and taking jobs _he_ wants. He also gets to work with Wendy a lot, too—even though he gets plenty of shit in the process. Wendell and Xoch make at least three digs at him daily, especially when Jim calls or sends a text.

Or when _he_ calls Jim or sends a text.

Factions are vying for territory; people are demanding more security services and there are _all. those. contract kills_.

Victor unlocks his Impala wondering where he should go for a bite… _maybe Bessie’s for a sit down?_ When he slides in, he finds a note on the seat. He scrunches his face and reads it. His face splits into a wide grin. Zsasz bites his lower lip and shakes his head.

_Guess it’s gonna be fast food._

On the way to the fight club, he inhales a double meat burger, a large order of curly fries, a fried apple pie and a soda from Gotham Grille in the car. He nods to the guys at the door as he jogs into the entrance and thinks back on the first night he saw Jim _not_ at work… _definitely_ _not_ at work.

Like last time, people are clamoring for their fighters. He hits the bar for his customary drink and heads to the same ring where he saw Jim, chuckling at the serendipity of finding two women fighting again. He sips at his bottle and looks to the spot where Jim stood, wearing that leather jacket with a beer in his hand.

Victor smiles and shakes his head recalling how curious he was to learn more about Jim that night—who, back then, he really didn’t know much about. He shakes his head in astonishment at how intimately he does now.

Sean comes bebopping into the bar and spots his man. He takes the folded message Jim gave him and sashays towards Victor. He grins as he watches the hairless man look around. He dramatically reaches out his right hand and taps Victor’s shoulder while he blows on his bubblegum. With a loud pop of his gum, Sean clears his throat.

“Ahem!”

Victor reaches for his karambit as he turns towards the pop and tap, doing a double take. His face scrunches up before grinning. He raises a brow and pulls down the corners of his mouth, nodding at Sean’s casual attire—suddenly recalling the first time he saw the pro in that Joy Division t-shirt and leather collar when he tailed Jim for Penguin.

“I almost didn’t recognize you. How uh… _are_ you?”

Sean presents Victor with the note between his index and middle finger as he continues to chew his gum.

“I’m good. Here; it’s your next clue. See ya, daddy!”

Sean winks and quickly walks towards the exit and leaves the bar.

Victor reaches into his pocket for some cash to buy Sean a drink, but the kid’s already gone. He shrugs and opens the note.

 

 _You and I were standing in line there. Our connection_  
_to each other was first felt, a spark—a flame._  
_Under your spell I was first entranced;_  
_a hesitation, a moment and my mind forever_  
_calling your name._

 

Victor chuckles and makes his way out of the club to head for Lem’s—suddenly wishing he’d eaten a regular burger considering how much he loves pastrami on rye. When he arrives at the deli, he heads straight for the counter.

He snickers remembering how he snuck up behind the detective and how unamused the ma was.

_“What do you want, Zsasz? It’s not like you to approach me unless it’s to tell me there is a hit out on me.”_

His mind flashes to the moment Jim looked at him just a _little_ longer than he should’ve. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, recalling it was the first time _he_ also felt something between them. Zsasz absently reaches for his chest when he remembers how Jim pushed him aside, only to give him a long glance as he exited the deli. Seth’s voice snaps him from his reverie.

“Don’t tell me, Victor. The usual.”

“How ‘bout a _half_ a sandwich instead?”

Lem and Seth exchange surprised glances.

“Comin’ right up.”

Victor pays, grabs his sandwich and heads for the table where he sat with Judith, staring out at the parking space where Jim looked back at him before leaving the deli. He props his feet up on the chair beside him and crosses his legs at the ankles before tackling his sandwich.

Seth runs up to Victor’s table with a nervous smile.

“Hey Vic, I was asked to give this to you.”

The young man holds a note in his hand and waits for Victor to take it.

“Sorry, I almost forgot!”

Zsasz shakes his head and smiles.

“All good, man. Thanks.”

Victor holds his sandwich in his mouth as he eagerly opens his next clue.

 

 _Men and women come here to_  
_appreciate dancing beauties but_  
_I only thought of you. Adrift and_  
_longing for another kiss, I sat alone._  
_Ready and desperate for another taste_  
_of your lips. Rage and anger are all I felt that night._  
_You, undeterred, kept pursuing me._

 

Victor shakes his head and smiles.

_Jim._

He immediately hops up, chewing his last bite on the way out the door. He dashes to his Chevy and heads for Scarlet’s. As he walks into the club and scans the people in it, it occurs to him how unchanged the place is. It has the same kinds of patrons, dancers and music—but somehow it feels _different_.

Maybe it’s because _he’s_ different.

Zsasz’s eyes drift to the table where Jim sat alone, nursing his beer. He remembers how powerless he was to keep himself from the detective— _especially_ after kissing and touching him for the very first time on the rooftop earlier that evening. The heat flashes behind his cock and his fingers twitch as he recalls slipping his tongue into Jim’s eager mouth and how hard the man was when he reached to touch him.

Zsasz heads for the same table, currently unoccupied. He seats himself and thinks back to the events at the cabaret when Jim confronted him about his intentions.

 _“So, are you following me for Penguin or because ‘you want to get to know me better’?”_  
  
_“Penguin only knows I saw someone do a pimp in a dumpster.”_  
  
He casually shrugged.  
_  
__“And both.”_

Jim finally softened and allowed him to sit back down. Victor’s body _still_ ignites from the memory of Jim’s words—only to recall how the blonde in the white t-shirt showed up, causing everything to go to shit.

_“I feel like repeating what we did on the roof.”_

Sean sneaks up from behind Victor, giggling under his breath. He once again taps Victor on the shoulder.

Zsasz assumes it’s the cocktail waitress. Just as he’s about to order a club soda with a lime, he’s surprised to see Sean _again._

He rubs his lips and snickers.

 _Again_.

“We keep meeting like this, people’ll start to talk. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were _tailin’_ me. Can I at least get you a drink?”

Sean busts out laughing and eyes Victor up and down.

“Let them talk. No drinks for me, I have places to be. Here’s your final clue, daddy. Oh and you’re gonna need this.”

Sean digs into his hoodie and fishes out a pen.

“For when you get to your final destination tonight.”

He holds it out with the note.

Victor nods and accepts the items, smiling.

“Guess I’ll letcha shake that money maker then. Oh, by the way—” Victor nods down towards Sean’s Docs and wags one of his own. “I like _those_ better than your others.”

Sean grins and nods.

“Yeah, me too. Makes for getting away from clingy johns so much easier. Okay, gonna go. Good luck!”

Sean dances his way out of the club.

Victor excitedly opens his final clue.

 

 _Mornings spent here,_  
_just the two of us,_  
_total bliss. Enjoying our_  
_breakfast of chicken and waffles_  
_between each and every kiss._

 

Zsasz smiles and shakes his head as he jogs to his Chevy to head for the Griddle House. He heads straight for their favorite booth and seats himself, smiling as he pictures Jim cutting his waffles up into those triangles to build his perfect bite.

A young waiter comes up to the table and looks back to the person that gave him the strange envelope but they aren’t there anymore. He shrugs and places it in front of Victor.

“Good afternoon! I was told to give that to you. Sorry, I don’t know who… some guy. He was there just a second ago but left. So what can I get you started with?”

“Can ya gimme sec?”

Victor glances around and chuckles. Any other time, he’d be ordering a huge meal, but he grabs the envelope to study his final clue. Inside is an embossed invitation to The Foxglove. Attached to the invitation is a small note that reads:

 

_Be there at 10 pm._

 

Victor shakes his head and stretches an impossibly large grin, recalling the time he left Jim an invitation to the club. It isn’t long before he remembers what Jim said the last night they spent together.

_“You’re going to have to wear something simple next time we fuck.”_

Zsasz immediately pockets all his clues and the pen. He rises from the booth, waves at the waiter and leaves a twenty for him before striding out. He has a _lot_ of work to do and things to take care of before he meets Jim later. He needs to hustle.

—

Despite how busy Victor’s day keeps him, he constantly checks his phone for the time. He also picks up some “easier access” attire. If he had time, he would’ve had something tailored. He settled for simple, classic and functional: a black cashmere sweater, a nice pair of black wool trousers. He drops them off at the cleaners before grabbing a pair of 2976 Docs. He’d be _damned_ if he was going to fuck with any buttons or laces tonight.

Once home, he transfers his new items to his duffel, attempting to avoid The Girls’ scrutiny by walking in with bags. After a quick shower and change, he hustles out of his quarters, _thrilled_ at the promise of seeing Jim. He can practically _hear_ Wendy and Xoch.

 _“Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Victor Zsasz? Jim Gordon done got yo ass_ **_seriously_ ** _whipped.”_

He snickers and shakes his head at himself.

_Guess he really does, doesn’t he?_

His eyes drift to his dresser, suddenly remembering Wendy’s package inside the bottom drawer.

After adding the impromptu accessory to his attire, he slips into his high-collared military-style leather jacket and zips it _all_ the way up. If he’s lucky, he’ll make it out undetected.

He’s not lucky.

Xoch’s heading outside for a smoke. She takes one look and immediately starts in on him, nodding to his jacket.

“You weren’t wearing that jacket earlier and you _never_ zip up anything that high, no matter _how_ cold it is. You just showered again and I smell new leather.”

She looks down to his boots.

“Those Docs don’t have laces and _those..._ ” She points to his trousers. “...are _new_.”

She sucks her teeth and shakes her head at the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and the twinkle in his eyes.

“I take it Waffles is finally back.”

Victor replies with a large goofy grin.

“You could _definitely_ do worse. I’ll give you that. Besides, I kinda _like_ the new booty-whooped Victor. Thanks to him, I’m gettin’ _all_ _kinds_ of pussy!”

—

Victor sprints up the entrance to The Foxglove, giddy with excitement. When the warmth blooms in his chest, he puffs with amusement recalling how much it _used to_ unnerve him.

He walks into the foyer, face split into a wide smile. The moment he steps in, he’s surprised to find the club (normally teeming with people and thrumming with music) empty and _silent_. In all the years he’s visited, he’s _never_ seen it this way, even _after_ hours.

Zsasz’s long stride slows and shortens. His face scrunches in confusion until he sees a familiar face at the hostess podium.

“Hmph! Well, _look_ what the cat dragged in! Victor Zsasz, get that fine ass o’ yours over here!”

Victor strides up to the dark, voluptuous woman. Her teal sequined cocktail dress with a high collar and a keyhole opening accentuates her ample bust. He sidles up besides her, places his hand on the small of her back and purrs into her ear.

“Solange, I _swear_. _Every_ time I see you, you get _finer_.”

She shakes her head and clicks her nails.

“Aww _hell no_ , boy. You know that shit ain’t workin’ on me. Lemme see that invitation!”

He chortles.

“But you said I _didn’t need_ an invitation to visit the Foxglove.”

She rolls her eyes and works her neck.

“Nuh-uh! See, it ain’t even _like_ _that_ tonight! We got somethin’ _real special_ happenin’ this evening and it’s by _invitation only_. Not even _your_ panty-droppin’ smile’s gonna get you in without one, so c’mon with it! I ain’t got all fuckin’ night, baby. I got thangs to do!”

Victor shakes his head and laughs, pulling it out of the pocket containing all Jim’s clues. He tilts his head and arches a brow as she quickly snatches it with her perfectly-manicured hand. She scrupulously eyes it before turning back to him, smirking.

“Why _thank_ you, sir. Right this way.”

A snare drum kicks off a lazy, four four time signature. When the keyboards and the rhythm guitar begin their easy, syncopated groove, Victor grins and shakes his head in recognition of Barbra Streisand and Barry Gibbs’ iconic duet, “[ Guilty ](https://youtu.be/nVyeNZCENZA) ”. He _loves_ this song.

_Damn, babe. You couldn’t have picked anything more perfect._

Solange smiles warmly and takes his arm, leading him through the club towards the empty dance floor. There, a single spotlight shines and lazy disco ball lights spin. She winks and nods him towards it, swatting his ass.

Zsasz’s smile stretches impossibly wide. He walks up to and under the spotlight, scanning for Jim who’s not yet visible. Streisand’s opening begins.

 

 _“Shadows falling baby, we stand alone_  
_Out on the street anybody you meet got a heartache of their own_  
_(It oughta be illegal)_  
_Make it a crime to be lonely or sad_  
_(It oughta be illegal)_  
_You got a reason for livin'_  
_You battle on with the love you're livin' on_  
_You gotta be mine_  
_We take it away_  
_It's gotta be night and day_  
_Just a matter of time…”_

 

He slowly spins as he searches. The spotlight makes it difficult for him to see into the surrounding darkness. When Jim’s silhouette _finally_ comes into view, Victor’s jaw slackens.

Jim’s wearing the same thing he wore that night at the Foxglove—the night Victor swears he’ll never forget as long as he lives. As Jim joins him beneath the spotlight, Victor’s overwhelmed with a feeling he can’t place, something akin to profound relief and gratitude. He blinks back the welling behind his eyes and swallows. His lip slightly quivers before stretching into a smile. He reaches for the detective.

“Hi, Jim.”

Jim walks up to Victor; he can see him straining to see beyond the brightness of the spotlight. Once he is in the light with Victor, he gazes up into those dark twinkling eyes. Jim can feel his heart racing as butterflies flutter around in his stomach. The two months away from Zsasz have been the hardest two months of his life. Their phone calls and text messages helped him keep sane during the rough healing period. His frustration was near unbearable but hearing Victor’s voice and encouraging words always put him at ease.

He reaches out and wraps his arms around Victor’s shoulders and begins a slow two step dance. His eyes scan the beaming face before him; his gaze settles at Victor’s lips as he purrs.

“Hi, Victor.”

Victor tightly wraps his arms around Jim’s waist, sighing with relief as he draws him even closer and their bodies move together. He leans into Jim’s lips and teases them apart, softly whimpering.

Jim presses his lips to Victor’s for a soft lingering kiss as they sway to the music. He holds onto his dance partner a bit tighter as he pulls away from the kiss. He lets out a soft moan as Victor’s scent envelops his senses. The pleasant and heady aroma of leather, his customary woodsy deodorant and a soft warm underlying scent that tickles Jim’s nose. He sighs as he leans his forehead to Victor’s.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to come back.”

Victor reaches for the back of Jim’s neck. His wavering voice is racked with emotion.

“I’m just glad you came back. I missed you.” He gazes deeply into _those_ eyes. “I really _do_ love you, Jim.”

Jim pulls his head away to look deep into Victor’s eyes; his heart leaps with Victor’s assertion. The way his unblinking gaze pierces right through him, the sound of his voice breaking, and the feel of his unrelenting strong embrace; Jim’s heart skips a beat.

_He’s holding on so tight as though he expects me to disappear._

The butterflies in Jim’s stomach begin fluttering hard; his brow crinkles as he matches the same tone of sincerity.

“I love you too.”

Jim leans his head on Victor’s shoulder as his arms lower to hold onto his waist. Though he has some mobility back in his right arm, it’s still very uncomfortable to use in a wide range of motion. He lets out a small sigh of relief as his eyes close, content to be in the moment forever. He asks with a large smile.

“Did you bring the clues with you?”

Victor finally relaxes his hold on Jim. He smiles and reaches for the man’s hand, entwining their fingers together.

“Of course I did.”

From the back, Solange comes with a small table and sets it off to the side, disappearing immediately after. Jim looks over to the table surface and nods over to it.

“Place the clues in order. When you do, circle the first letter of each sentence. There’s a table for you to work on.”

Jim lets Victor go as he smiles up at him.

An open-mouthed smile tugs at one side of Victor’s mouth.

“No pressure, Zsasz. No pressure at all.”

He shrugs and puffs out an amused snort.

“Here goes nothin’.”

He saunters to the table and arranges the clues in order, before grabbing the pen out of his pocket and methodically circling the letters. The request seems weird at first, but it’s quickly forgotten when the first word begins forming. His face brightens with it:

 

_Will_

 

He continues with the second note:

 

_You_

 

He glances at Jim over a shoulder with an arched brow. Victor shrugs and tackles the third note. As he circles the letters, his pace begins to slow and his eyes grow wider. His lips begin parting.

 

_Marry_

 

Victor’s struck by the simultaneous excitement and terror blooming in his chest. He slowly takes a breath and finally turns to the final note even though he has a _pretty_ good idea of what it’s going to say. He slowly circles the final two letters.

 

_Me_

 

He blinks and softly shakes his head, gaping at the circled letters.

Jim digs into his jacket and takes out a small black velvet box. He slowly descends on one knee and waits for Victor to turn around.

Wide-eyed, Zsasz slowly turns to face Jim.

 _Where did he…?_ _What the fuck?_ _Why is he_ _on a knee? Is_ **_that_** _… a fucking_ **_ring_** _?_

Victor slowly raises a hand to his open mouth and stands wide-eyed. _Petrified_. Unable to move. Unable to think. _Thunder_ _struck_.

Jim takes a deep breath in as he peers up at Victor’s shell-shocked face. He takes a short breath in and asks with as much conviction as he is able muster.

“Victor Zsasz, will you marry me?”

Jim manages a very nervous smile as his unblinking eyes remain glued to Victor. He swallows thickly as he awaits the answer.

Victor slowly blinks, struggling to process Jim’s words and to wrap his brain around what’s happening. He finds himself losing his shit in a way he never has before.

_D-Did he just… He didn’t just fucking… He just fucking proposed to you. What the..._

He gapes and blinks at the ring in the box, working hard to combat the overwhelming urge to bolt for the door, fleeing in terror (like so many of his victims).

 _You gotta get the fuck outta here, Zsasz. You did_ **_not_ ** _sign up for this shit._

Just as he’s about to hightail it out of there, he looks away from the ring in the box and back up into the azure eyes of the man he’s thought of nonstop for _months_ now. The one who’s endlessly intrigued him and whom he’s never _once_ lost interest in. The one he could _never_ walk away from. The one who makes him forget everyone and everything else. The one who makes him feel things he’s _never_ felt before. The one who drove him to hell and back when he had no idea if he was dead or alive. The man he _knows_ he’d follow to the ends of the earth and die to defend without hesitation or question.

The man he _loves_ —despite being convinced he was incapable of such a thing.

Jim’s injured right shoulder begins to radiate in pain as he holds up the ring box. He shifts uncomfortably on his right knee as his brow begins to furrow slightly.

_Either he is heavily debating on running or I’ve rendered him catatonic…_

Jim’s smile begins to fade as he stares up at his silent lover.

Once Victor finally recollects exactly how much Jim means to him and how profoundly the man’s impacted him, he steels himself to remain where he stands. He’s been through and risked too much already— _j_ _ust now_ getting out from under the hell of Jim’s uncertain fate and facing the very real possibility of life without him.

 _But_ **_this_ ** _shit? Getting_ **_married_** _?! Men like_ **_us_ ** _don’t_ **_do_ ** _this. What the_ **_fuck_ ** _is he thinking? This isn’t some fucking fairy tale romance novel._

Victor still wants to bolt, but he doesn’t want to lose Jim. _Not again._ He _just_ got him back. He isn’t even sure he _could_ walk away like he always _used to_ before Jim—back when he didn’t give a shit about anyone else but himself… back when he would have _never_ loved someone… much less _admitted_ it.

He shakes his head.

“You deserve _better._ ”

Jim puffs out a breath he had no idea he was holding. His gaze goes from Victor’s uneasy expression to the ring then back again. His smile returning as he asserts softly.

“I think I know what I deserve. I like to think I deserve _you_ …”

Victor rubs his hand down his mouth and swallows, his mouth parched—still desperately combatting the urge to run. It’s then Victor recalls Jim running over and over and over again… after their first kiss… after they returned to Gotham from that weekend at Jim’s mom’s… after Jim left him in the woods.

_“I’m yours…_

_...I love you, Victor.”_

_“Goodbye, Victor."_

The agonizing memory of looking up and helplessly watching Jim walk away is what finally tempers him.

 _Is this the_ **_only_ ** _way I get to keep him?_

He inhales a deep breath and puffs out a huge sigh, fearing the consequences if he turns down Jim’s proposal. He grits his teeth and nods with resolve.

_I guess if there's no other way._

Victor squeezes his eyes and lips shut for several long, excruciating moments before swallowing and _stunning_ himself with his reply.

“Yes.”

Jim lets out a sigh of relief and stands up. He was sure that Victor was going to bolt out of the Foxglove screaming in horror. He knows he took a large gamble with the proposal, especially after the extended time away from each other—not to mention that their attachment to each other is anything but _conventional_. This proposal skips _‘in a relationship’_ status ( _which they have never gone through_ ) to the two of them in a legally binding commitment.

Jim clenches his teeth and intakes a deep silent breath. He is woefully aware of Victor’s reluctance, and dare he say fear(?) evident all over his face, along with the stiff body posture. The grim truth is that their worlds can never cross but Jim doesn’t care; when they are together, none of that matters.

_I better make my intentions crystal clear before he runs out the door._

He clears his throat and grabs Victor’s left hand.

“Look, I know this is probably way out of left field for you. I have a few things to say, but let me put this on your finger first.”

Jim’s words barely even register as Victor looks on, dazed. He struggles to remain where he stands and not make a break for the door.

“Uh… yeah… a little bit.” Zsasz blinks and nods incredulously. He uncomfortably shifts and stammers. “You could say that.”

Jim removes a large silvery ring from Victor’s finger and stores in it his cupped left hand. He gives Victor a nervous smile as his gaze goes from the ring to his face then back again.

“I had to guess at your size. Having had your hand in mine, I did my best.”

Jim shows Victor an inscription on the plain band platinum ring. He holds it in the light and recites the words.

_“No matter what, I’m yours.”_

Victor blinks at the inscription, finally growing still from surprise. He rubs down the front of his face, recalling the night Jim first said those words to him. It was the same night it began occurring to him he felt _exactly_ the same way, only to lose the man and _finally_ realize it really _was_ true:

He wants _nothing_ _else_ , _no one else_ more than Jim—more than he’s ever wanted _anything_.

Still, despite everything Victor feels for Jim, the fact remains they are two very different people from profoundly different worlds. When things first began between them, he thought _nothing_ of the consequences. Now, after everything they’ve been through, he _can’t help_ but think of them.

Jim looks into Victor’s eyes as he slips on the engagement ring. He sighs in relief when it slides all the way on. He then returns the small box to an inside pocket of his jacket and takes in a deep breath. He knows what he is about to say could be met horribly.

“Victor, I was asked to take over as GCPD Captain.”

Jim looks into Victor’s eyes, waiting for the fall of the hammer. He does his best to keep his facial expression neutral, unreadable, but deep down he’s scared that the only man— _person_ —he loves will run out on him.

Victor’s heart sinks. He was just beginning to calm and now _this?_ His shoulders slowly fall and his trepidation rises, fearing the inevitable hell to come. Zsasz knows the kind of man he is. He also knows there’s _no way_ Jim Gordon, the GCPD’s finest, will ever compromise in doing what it takes to protect Gotham and keep her inhabitants safe.

Zsasz inhales a ragged breath, his expression wary and tone cautious.

“So uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “What did you say?”

Jim looks Victor squarely in the eyes and swallows, his throat dry as a desert. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants. His heart beating hard and his nerves firing on end, he had a feeling this would be a sensitive subject between them. He resolutely says with a nervous smile.

“I accepted.”

Victor rubs a hand down his mouth and looks to the floor, shifting his weight uncomfortably. His rigidity turns to twitching. He’s surprised to feel himself tremble. He takes a step back and glances towards the exit before reluctantly looking back at Jim. He clenches his hands, overcome by the overwhelming urge to rip off the ring, hand it right back and head straight for the door.

“Jim…” He shakes his head. “Things uh… didn’t work out so great last time and…” He rubs his mouth again. “You were still a detective. How _exactly_ is this supposed to work? You and me?” He hesitates. “ _Us?_ With me being _me_ and you being… _captain?_ ”

Jim shrugs; his brow crinkles as his gaze falls to the floor. There’s a deep developing pang in his chest after catching Victor nervously scoping the exit— _yet again_. Jim wasn’t sure how Victor would react to the proposal but deep down laid a spark of hope that he would accept it much more willingly. Jim returns his gaze to Victor; his brow still crinkled in worry and heartache. He fears he’s made a terrible mistake when it comes to what Victor _can not_ and _will not_ accept when it comes to relationships.

_No going back now; I laid myself bare. I better get on with it._

Jim inhales a deep breath and lets out a long sigh.

“I admit, it wasn’t working out between us when I was a detective. A lot of that was circumstantial: you working for Oswald, the Pax, and my own fear and concerns when it came to us. The only way I believe this can work is if we keep our business away from each other… _completely_. Plus, if we’re married, I can’t be forced to testify against you…”

Jim sighs and adds.

“Look, I know this is completely foreign to you. I know there are so many reasons we shouldn’t go through with it. I proposed because _I want to protect you_ and well… because I fucking love you.”

Jim offers a weak and nervous smile as he continues.

“If you want to be with me, then you’re going to have to put up with a little bit of sentimental drivel.”

Jim lets loose a scoff and swallows down a huge lump as he does his best to say the next sentence with stoic resolve.

“But if you never want to marry, it won’t change how I feel about you. And I promise you, that this proposal is as mushy as I get. There’s no rush; we can take our time. If and when you are ready, you tell me the date.”

Victor listens on, intermittently gritting his teeth and knitting his brow. He blinks in shock when he learns of Jim’s desire to protect him—like Don Falcone did back when he was a little kid and couldn’t take care of himself and the way The Girls fucking had to because he was powerless to keep himself away from Jim.

Victor’s mind slowly morphs from the terror of being chained to the fear he isn’t worthy of Jim _or_ his protection… the way that fucking asshole Mario constantly reminded him he wasn’t a Falcone when they were kids.

_“You’re just another one of my dad’s charities.”_

Zsasz worked hard to please Don Falcone, to hone his skills, to gain the man’s trust and deserve the man’s recognition and respect.  

When that day came, Victor felt like he _finally_ arrived. He finally became _someone_ : a man people tried to impress and please… a man people feared and dared not cross because he was Victor Zsasz: the legendary Don Falcone’s muscle, protector, enforcer, _executioner_.

However, there’s a huge part of him who doesn’t believe he deserves Jim. He can still hear Bullock’s taunt:

_You. Were. Never. Good. Enough. For. Jim!_

And Ricci in his nightmare:

_“You don’t deserve him…. You’re an animal—a monster.”_

_Even that asshole, unworthy of the name ‘Falcone’, fucking Mario “Calvi”:_

_“Charity case.”_

Zsasz swallows and hesitantly reaches for Jim’s wrists, coaxing his hands from his pockets and peering deeply into his eyes as he takes them.

“Jim… are you _sure_ that _this…_ ” Victor grimaces (because what he _really_ means is _‘him’_ ). “...is what you _really_ want?”

Jim shakes his head as he lovingly gazes at Victor, his tone soft as he replies.

“How many times are you going to _ask_ me that? I don’t know what more proof or seriousness I need to demonstrate so it sinks in. I want you, always.”

Victor swallows and blinks at the stinging in his eyes.

“Jim, you’re a good man.” He shakes his head. “I’m... _not_. You make me _want_ to be...” He swallows. “... _for_ _you_ , but… I dunno if I _can_ _be…_ _enough…_ for you… to uh… make _this_ work.”

Jim can sense Victor is trying to talk himself out of their relationship. Jim shrugs and replies.

“I know exactly what you are Victor: _a cold-blooded killer…_ _murderer… prone to violence and unspeakable horrors._ ” He pauses and softly sighs. “That’s _not_ who I fell in love with but I _accept_ that part of you.”

Victor still has serious doubts about the entire arrangement, but the _one_ thing he trusts _implicitly_ and _doesn’t_ doubt is Jim and, for him, that’s enough.

He puffs out a big sigh and places his hands on either side of Jim’s face ( _finally_ easing into his decision to accept Jim’s proposal and their engagement). Victor looks deeply into _those eyes_  and softly presses their heads together, offering a nervous smile.

“Okay.” He meekly nods and swallows. “But I have a confession to make.”

Jim wraps his arms around Victor’s waist and smiles.

“What is this confession of yours?”

Victor sheepishly looks side to side before returning Jim’s gaze. He whispers, wide-eyed.

“Jim. I’m shitting my pants right now I’m so fucking scared.”

Jim laughs and nods.

 _Well, third time_ **_has_ ** _to be the charm. He’s already a killer and psychopath, so he has Barbara and Lee beat out on that._ _After all this, maybe he’ll turn into an upstanding and responsible citizen._

Jim’s tone goes serious as he remarks.

“I’m scared shitless too, last two serious relationships tried to kill me. I hope this doesn’t make a third.”  

He beams a boyish grin at Victor.

Victor swivels his head from side to side and smirks back. He bites his lower lip and arches a brow.

“Well, since I _already_ tried to kill you a few times…” He shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe we already got _that_ little bump outta the way.”

Zsasz nuzzles Jim’s neck and bites at it.

“So… what d’ya say we get outta here?”

Jim grabs Victor’s hand and leads him towards the exit of the club. He winks at Solange who is on the phone. She waves the two on and chuckles as she hollers.

“Congratulations! Now go on get your freaks on with some post engagement fuckin’!”

Solange swats at Victor’s ass as they pass by and cackles boisterously.

Once they exit the club Jim turns to Victor and says.

“Let’s go in your car. I brought my bike. I don’t want to be away from you a single second. I live on Richmond and 1st street not far from the precinct.”

Victor grabs Jim’s ass and growls in his ear.

“You _got it_ , babe.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Smiles really big and silently claps her fingers together*
> 
> This was a fun chapter for me! I had been devising a plan for many months while we started the second collab with this story. I knew I wanted to surprise Owl but I didn't know how. If you know me, I'm the kind of person who works best "on the-fly" As we got closer on how we were going to resolve the Pax Penguina and the strains the relationship between these two men endured, I was trying to think of something mind blowing. Owl had no idea. She only knew where the story was going to end but not what I was scheming. So I sat and conjured the clue hunt. I wanted to revisit the places in Boxcutter that held a profound moment for both men. Also, sorry to say I'm NO POET. I tried my very best with the clues but one (where it led Vic to Scarlet's) was not in a rhyme lay out. I was going for emotional content AND I needed each sentence to begin with certain letters. I couldn't think of something for Scarlet! GOMEN'NASAI! *bows*
> 
> The final piece you see here isn't what was initially RP'ed. Owl expressed that Victor gave in too easily to the proposal. So well...I think I will let her explain her reasons for going back and making Victor toil over the whole thing...
> 
> I told her that I had a contingency plan if Victor ran away or declined the proposal. I wanted her to be true to herself when writing Victor and his responses. Oh trust me, Jim was going to run after Victor. I told her he would chase after him out of the Foxglove and jump on the hood of that Impala if he had to! HAH! But knowing how flighty I am I probably would of wrote Jim as a lonely salty Captain and have him grow that mustache. I can see him now: partaking of his ale in his office as he tries to drink his broken heart away. Harvey trying to cheer him up and take to the "Prime Rib" =D
> 
> Anyways... he said "Yes" NO BACKSIES !!!
> 
> ~FC
> 
> ______
> 
> Filthy’s been talkin’ about surprising me, which (admittedly) is not a difficult thing to do. Ever since we began collabing, Deya’s _repeatedly_ thrown one surprise after another at me. I’m no longer surprised about being surprised anymore. Thing is, however, a “surprise” by definition is always a “surprise”. 
> 
> So yeah. We get ready to RP this, having hammered out our expected end result so I’m all _“YAY! It’s about DAMB time. These two FINALLY have a long overdue happy reunion—with lotsa bodily fluids and stuff!”_ But then there’s this clue hunt deal and I’m like, _“Woah. This is actually sweet and she really put a lotta effort into it.”_ (It really surprised me ‘cause 'sweet' ain't really Deya/Jim's jam, but after all the h3ll of this story? It was a welcome change and all those great memories. I am, if anything, terribly sentimental.)
> 
> Then we get to the whole circle the letters thing. *shrugs* _”Here goes nothin’.”_
> 
> So, uh... some background / true confession time: Jessica (your humble co-author) has an irrational fear about marriage—and _always_ has. Believe me when I tell you, I _literally._ FREAKED the F*CK OUT when I read those letters. LITERALLY. Like _I_ was getting engaged! It’s bad enough FC always has to wait patiently for me to mull endlessly over stuff and edit as I write, but I’m like FREAKING OUT. All the while, she’s giving me sh!t about it... and I’m like having a meltdown! ROFLMAO at myself! _I mean, it’s funny now, but I was sh!tting my pants! :D_ Anyway, (like Deya mentioned) I caved because for the story even though EVERYTHING in Victor (okay me) was screaming to GET THE F*CK OUTTA THERE and never look back!
> 
> So, yeah. After the RP, I kinda felt like I just chopped off my ovaries (or in this case, Victor’s testicles) by accepting the proposal without sufficient inner turmoil for our story's sake, hence the after-the-fact added angst/internal dialogue—uncannily similar to Jess’ personal torment during that RP! XD
> 
> *Owl still self-talks: _”It’s just a story, Jess. It’s only RP. It’s not real. You’re not really getting engaged.”_ Now pardon me while I find a paper sack to huff into for fear I might hyperventilate. *only to quickly abandon the search, rip off the ring, fling it and run away screaming*
> 
> But seriously though: these two jack&sses belong together. I can assure you: (owl's) Victor Zsasz can't imagine a life without his (FC's) precious Jimbo. _Victor adoringly gazes into his beloved’s eyes and says,[ "You’re 'My First, My Last, My Everything’, Jim.”](https://youtu.be/tB54XUhA9_w) Zsasz then proceeds to dance Jim’s fine &ss all over The Foxglove, erstwhile singing the iconic Barry White song._
> 
> }8> -o-


	28. Coping Mechanisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two newly engaged men head to Jim’s new apartment for much anticipated alone time. Once there, Jim is faced with evidence of Victor’s grief.

—>  <—

Victor and Jim run to the Impala. Once inside, Zsasz grabs Jim, pulls him out of the passenger seat and onto the silver console between them. He starts the car and guns it to Jim’s apartment. Throughout the quick drive, he grabs and bites at Jim’s neck, runs his hand all over the man’s thighs and palms him through this pants.

After arriving in record time, they rush into the building and elevator. Before the doors completely open, Victor pushes Jim inside and shoves him against a wall. He smashes his mouth to Jim’s and grinds against him.

Jim grabs at Victor’s jacket, desperate to feel him against his body. He reaches for the zipper and quickly unzips him loose. Jim snakes a hand up to Victor’s neck; his hand comes upon a collar. Jim pulls from the kiss and examines it. He chuckles and grabs at the tag.

“What are you wearing?”

It takes Zsasz a moment to switch gears now that his body has taken over. He grins and shakes his head, chuckling.

“Oh. _This?_ ” Victor slips an index finger beneath the collar. “Wendy sent it _months_ ago—back when you were stayin’ with him. He texted me that he was sendin’ somethin’ in case I got lost.” He shrugs. “I had no clue what it meant. What _he_ meant. He wouldn’t tell me who ‘Swift Hand’ was and well, _you_ _know_.”

Victor grins suggestively and swivels his hips.

“So. What d’ya think?” He arches a brow. “Does it look good on me?”

Jim reverses the tag and sees the message. He laughs and strokes Victor’s cheek with the back of his hand. He nods as he aggressively comes back in for a kiss. The elevator dings as they reach the fifth story top floor. Jim growls and takes Victor’s hand as he pulls him out of the elevator and towards his door down the hall. He says through heavy breaths.

“I got us plenty of food and drinks to recharge afterwards. I hope you aren’t planning to escape my company anytime soon.”

Victor bites his lower lip and slowly shakes his head.

“No fucking way, Jim. I think I’ve waited _long_ enough.”

He aggressively grabs Jim’s ass and rubs it as they walk down the corridor.

Jim hastily opens the door to his apartment. It’s a modern updated space with views of Gotham park. Jim leads Victor in, kicks the door closed and locks it. He jumps Victor as he wraps his arms around his shoulders, opening his mouth to eat at his succulent lips. He growls impatiently as he strips off Victor’s jacket.

Victor reaches for Jim’s shirt, but he’d be _damned_ if he was going to waste any unnecessary time. He unsheathes his karambit and slices off Jim’s buttons to just above his pants, then his cuffs. Victor’s breathing is accelerated and his body is alight. He’s heady and desperate with Jim‘s body _finally_ close enough to feel the hot puffs of his breath. He quickly sheathes his knife and yanks Jim’s shirt out of his pants.

Jim moans when he sees the knife come out to lay claim to his shirt buttons. Jim absently goes to remove Victor’s buttons when he realizes that the man is wearing a sweater. Jim blinks and remarks.

“Well this is a nice surprise…”

He grabs Victor’s sweater and roughly yanks it over his head; pulling it past his arms. Jim tosses it to the floor. Once he returns his attention to Victor, he gets an eyeful of his chest; his smile quickly fades. His face drops and his breath catches in his throat. The area is dimly lit by the small light above the stove, but Jim can still see all the angry red scars up and down Victor’s torso and arms.

Victor’s so excited, it takes him a moment to realize Jim’s staring at the evidence of his self-inflicted wounds. He’s healing well, but many are still dark pink, especially his deeper gouges. He clenches his teeth and looks away.

Jim rushes into the entry hallway and slaps at the light switch. The white glow illuminates the small area and spills out into the kitchen space where Victor stands, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Jim grabs his fiance by the hands and takes a long look at the bright pink scars riddling his arms and torso. Jim peers at Victor’s turned face and asks.

“ _What happened!?_ Was this from a job?”

Victor rubs the back of his neck, unwilling to look at Jim.

“No.” He presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Not from a job.”

Jim pulls Victor in closer and implores the reluctant man to look at him.

“Victor, _look at me_. What is all this from? _Tell me_.”

Zsasz briefly glances at Jim before looking to the floor and rubbing beneath his lower lip with the knuckle of his thumb, still avoiding the man’s gaze.

“I uh… didn’t do so good not knowing what happened to you…” He inhales a deep breath. “...after we left you at Gotham General.”

Jim places a hand at Victor’s face, his eyes wide; he swallows down the urge to question his nervous lover over the obvious evidence of self harm. He knows Victor had a hard time with everything but he had no idea the extent of his grief. He then remembers the night Victor came to his apartment begging to be released from his torment. Victor’s damaged mental state hits Jim hard. He knows it’s difficult for Victor to process complex emotions and responds by either blocking the trigger or finding a violent outlet. He leans in and softly kisses Victor’s lips.

“Hey, I know you don’t want to talk about these things but maybe one day you will. All that is over and behind us in the past; let’s celebrate our lives as they are now.”

Jim takes Victor’s hands again and rubs his thumbs in his palms as he smiles, trying to shift the mood back to where it was earlier.

Victor removes a hand from Jim’s and reaches for the back of the man's neck, nodding. He draws Jim’s forehead to his and presses their mouths together, still somewhat hesitant to return his gaze.

Jim wraps his arms around Victor’s shoulders as he draws him in tighter. He feels protective of Victor and that has only increased over the course of time, more so after what happened _that night_. He wants to shield Victor from further stress now that he knows about the self harm. Jim releases Victor, takes his left hand and leads him to the couch.

Victor follows, wrestling with memories he’s tried hard to forget. He works to keep his smile easy as he seats himself and expectantly looks up at Jim.

Jim smiles down at Victor as he shuffles out of his shoes and unfastens his belt. He makes quick work of his slacks and lets the garment fall down to the floor. He steps out of his pants. Jim decides to leave his shirt and boxers on and quickly joins Victor on the couch, straddling his lap. He lays his arms over Victor’s shoulders and grabs the backrest, grinding his hips ever so slightly into his seated lover. He purrs.

“I’ve missed feeling you between my legs.”

As Jim undresses, Victor leans back to toe off his boots and unfasten himself, his breathing accelerating with the promise of Jim’s body. His body jerks and quivers the moment Jim straddles him. He immediately coils his arms around the man, smashes their lips together and urgently thrusts between Jim's legs.

Jim revels in Victor’s response; he always did love his tight embraces. The heat flashes deep and low, the sexual urgency from earlier returning full force. He playfully slips from Victor’s embrace then coaxes him into a recumbent position on the couch. Jim grabs the waistbands to Victor’s pants and boxers, yanking them down. Once he gets them off with Victor’s help, he tosses them on the floor. He grabs Victor by his shoulders to return him to a sitting position. Jim suddenly remembers a crucial detail.

“ _Lube_. One second. I will be right back.”

Jim runs into his bedroom and grabs a tube he bought just for tonight. He visited at an adult bookstore just outside of Gotham and bought a cherry-flavored warming lubricant. He returns to Victor as he tosses the tube over in his hand. Jim shimmies out of his boxers, a huge grin plastered on his face. He grabs at his dangling shirt to whip it off completely but halts when he remembers his healing wounds.

_No. My shoulder and chest are riddled with bright red scarring from the bullets and surgery. It would upset him and I don’t want to foul his mood after everything he’s been through. I’ll keep it on._

Jim descends down onto his knees and squirts lube into his hand, preparing to work Victor. The super sweet scent of cherries fills the air around him. He smiles up at his waiting lover as he grabs onto the presented large rod of flesh. He begins working him in firm short strokes, building up to Victor’s favorite rhythm: the twist and flick. He can feel the warming sensation already taking effect in his hand.

Victor shudders and jerks with Jim’s adroit hand, immediately thrusting into it. He bites his lower lip, appreciating the enhancement of the lube.

“Fuck, Jim.”

Jim smiles up at Victor then leans in and licks at the head of his pulsing cock. The flavor is salty with Victor’s essence and sweet with a pungent overlay of cherries. He emits a small moan of approval.

“Mmmm cherries. Not that you don’t taste amazing all on your own.”

Jim continues lavishing long wet licks all along the head of Victor’s cock as his left hand works him slowly. He then slowly takes him all the the way down his throat to the hilt. Jim moans and sucks as best he can. Feeling a little out of practice, he soon finds himself gasping for breath as he pulls off the large cock. He continues to work Victor in his slick palm as he takes in deep breaths and repeats the action; only this time, he shakes his head from side to side as he swallows him down once more.

Victor’s body reacts to the mere _thought_ of Jim taking him into that _perfect_ fucking mouth. His abs and thighs keen forward and he’s already grabbing at Jim’s leather cushions. The warmth gathers behind his cock and spreads into his hips with Jim’s mouth, so warm and wet… Victor’s jaw goes slack and his eyelids immediately droop. He’s heady and lost—moaning as he pumps.

Jim indulges Victor for a bit longer but can sense that he’ll blow soon if he continues. He slowly pulls off of Victor as he sucks, popping the head from his lips with a smile. He looks up and comments.

“Slow down, lover; I’ve been looking forward to riding you tonight.”

Jim quickly comes in and straddles Victor. He grabs the lube next to them on the couch and adds a bit more to his palm as he slowly applies more to Victor’s length.

Victor smiles sheepishly at Jim’s comment and chuckles with mild embarrassment. He suggestively presents his first two fingers, arches a brow and glances at the lube.

Jim brings the lube up to Victor’s presented digits and squirts down hard on the tube, liberally coating Victor’s entire hand in the gel. Jim smirks at the mess as he returns his attention back down to Victor’s glistening cock.

Victor moans as Jim handles him. He draws the man to his lips and reaches between his legs, past his balls and slips in a digit. The further he glides inside, the further he probes his tongue into the man's mouth, groaning and grunting. He adds a second finger and begins pumping more urgently. His groans grow louder.

Jim rocks his hips with Victor’s fingers. He pulls away from the kiss and bites his lower lip. He moans out.

“Fuck! It’s been so long. I’ve missed those expert fingers of yours!” 

Jim works Victor’s jolting shaft a bit quicker as he continues with his signature stroke. Jim can feel his shoulder is starting to twinge in pain and opts to switch up hands. He tries to hide this fact by making it seamless and playful.

Victor moans as he fingers Jim. His excitement and titillation rapidly builds when the man switches up hands. When Jim’s deepest muscles loosen, Zsasz slips in a third digit. The taut warmth makes him jerk in response. Jim feels even _tighter, hotter… more delicious_. His grunts grow louder as he works Jim. Zsasz’s mounting thrill makes him crave more of Jim’s flesh. He soon becomes frustrated with the barrier of Jim’s shirt and reaches to rip it off.

Jim sharply inhales a breath with the introduction of a third finger. The feel of Victor’s fingers deep inside him makes his body burn hotter. He returns his right hand to Victor’s dick and continues to work him softly. He then feels Victor’s free hand grab at his shirt, the fabric clenched tightly into his pale white fist. Jim places his hand over Victor’s and holds him steady to keep him from tearing it off. Jim quickly shifts his weight and pulls away from Victor to lie back onto the couch. He lifts his shirt just above his belly and awaits with a slack jaw, his eyes hooded and his voice pleading.

“Come here; I’m ready. _I need you now_.”

Victor reels with Jim’s words. He’s painfully hard and _dying_ to sink inside him… pound him mercilessly… break him in half. He groans when Jim offers himself, moaning and shuddering as he positions himself—gasping before he even enters Jim.

Jim opens his legs wide when Victor descends onto his body. He throws his arms over his head and over the armrest of the couch. He yearns to feel Victor tear into him, to render him weak, wanting, and desperate to be fucked hard. He can feel the heat of the large cock lining up to his worked swelter; he gasps in anticipation. Jim closes his eyes as he waits for the long hot presence of Victor deep inside of him. He can feel his face flush with heat as he moans out.

“ _Take me._ ”

Victor’s body completely takes over, savoring the tight drag as he plunges inside Jim’s exquisite heat. The decadent sensation in his dick quickly spreads throughout his hips and thighs. He’s fucking missed this… Jim… his responsive body… his voice and redolence. Zsasz presses his chest and mouth against Jim’s and immediately begins thrusting into him.

Jim grunts out loud when Victor dives deep into him without pause. Jim can feel himself tearing ever so slightly but he relishes the pain with the pleasure. He wraps his legs around Victor’s waist and begins meeting his motions with his own.

Victor’s weight becomes too much for his still healing body. His breaths are hard to come by as his solid lover smashes him into the couch cushions as he pounds away. Jim does his best to get a hold of his breathing and focus on Victor’s kisses. He starts to feel lightheaded; he gasps and pants for air as Victor hungrily devours his lips. Jim steadies his breaths, fearing Victor might hear him struggle. He swings his arms down when he feels the pinch of pain in his shoulder. He moans out.

“I love you, Victor.”

Victor loses himself inside Jim and in the warmth spreading from behind his cock to his chest and beyond. He falters and blinks with Jim’s words. He caresses _that_ face and gazes deeply into _those_ eyes, breathlessly replying.

“I love _you_ , Jim.”

Jim wraps his arms tightly around Victor’s shoulders and forces his mouth onto his. His hips working faster as he chases the bloom of heat deep below. He releases Victor’s mouth from his own, desperately sucking in air. Victor pounding into him and pausing every now and then to grind sends him into ecstasy. He revels in Victor’s hot breath on his skin, his personal scent saturating the air around him and those deep moans. Jim tosses his head back as he clenches tighter to Victor’s shoulders; his moans begin to come in louder and heavier as he gets closer to his climax.

Victor’s heart races watching Jim surrender: those eyes, that mouth… that. _fucking_. chin, usually strong and squared now slack and drunk with pleasure. The warmth gathering in Victor’s body grows hotter; that transcendent pressure builds. He forges forward chasing the decadent sensation. Victor leans down and nuzzles Jim’s neck, deeply inhaling his scent and opening his mouth wide. He presses his teeth to Jim’s neck and lavishes it with long licks.

Jim’s excitement increases with the soft feel of scraping teeth and tongue. He can feel the familiar flash of heat through his face, cock, and back; the intense rolling bloom floods his body. His orgasm begins to crest slowly at first but it quickly overtakes him. He shakes his head when all his muscles clench tight with the hard release. He shouts out.

“OOOOOH FUUU—CK!! VICTOR!”

Jim can feel the explosion gushing between their bodies. He wildly chases the sweet sensation as he continues to grind furiously onto Victor; his mind gone to the moment. He wants desperately to feel his lover cum deep inside.

Victor’s adrift in Jim’s frantic pulse and nearing orgasm. He continues ramming forward, but Jim’s tightening muscles take their toll as they bear down on him. He hammers on as Jim rides out his waves of pleasure, but he soon feels himself slow and falter. He bursts.

“I can’t… _Fuck…_ _I’m cum_ … OOOH _FUCK_ , _JIIIMMM!!!_ ”

Jim’s body continues to pulse as his orgasm persists and refuses to ebb. He gasps and continues to grind down on Victor. His face hot and sweaty as he moans and writhes underneath his exploding lover. He can feel Victor jolt and throb erratically deep inside of him. Jim gasps and holds Victor tighter bringing him down closer.

“Fuck, you feel so good baby! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

Victor gazes down at Jim, struggling to forge onward as his hips and thighs betray him. He tenderly strokes Jim’s face.

“You’re perfect. I wish you could see yourself.”

Jim’s body finally begins to settle. He leans into Victor’s stroking hand. He opens his eyes and peers up at his adoring lover. He whispers breathlessly.

“You’re just as perfect, if not more. I love you; I’m yours— _no matter what.”_

Victor works to temper his countenance, but the welling in his eyes and his loud swallow give him away. He lovingly kisses Jim.

“I’m yours, Jim. _Always_." He strokes Jim’s face and his lower lip quivers a little. “I love you, too.”

Jim leans up and kisses Victor. He pulls back and smiles.

“So how about we shower and eat something? I want another round.”

Jim purrs and nips at Victor’s chin.

Victor puffs out an amused snort and shakes his head. smiling.

“ _Whatever_ you want, Jim.”

He cards his fingers through Jim’s hair, pecks his lips and pulls out. He immediately hoists himself up, before grabbing the man’s forearm to help him up.

Jim winces when he feels the sting of his torn muscle ring. He then feels a slick of blood and semen run down his leg. He looks down at his leather couch, hoping that he will be able to wipe it all off no problem later. He wraps his arms around Victor’s shoulders and plants a hard sloppy kiss on him.

“I know it’s out of the way but, how about we head to the Griddle House to fill up on waffles and chicken?”

Victor chuckles as he gazes down at Jim, reaching to remove Jim’s wasted shirt.

“You’re consistent. I’ll give you that.” He pecks Jim’s lips and warmly grins. “ _Of_ _course_.”

Zsasz softly shakes his head. He works off Jim’s shirt and _finally_ discovers the extent of the detective’s impaired mobility in his right shoulder. He can also see the cicatrixes from Jim’s bullet wounds and surgery scars. He stiffens and shifts his gaze to the couch, trying not to think of them—only to find evidence that he should have taken more time with Jim. His brow knits and jaw grows rigid.

“Did I hurt you?”

Jim can feel Victor’s mood shift; the tone in his voice is full of alarm. Jim wants to calm him immediately. He responds light-heartedly.

“You know I like it rough.”

Victor takes Jim’s chin in his hand.

“That’s _not_ what I asked. Did I _hurt_ you?”

Jim swallows as he meets Victor’s intense gaze. His voice is pleading and soft as he replies.

“Come on; it’s nothing. You and I have been rougher with each other in the past.”

Victor releases Jim’s chin and bruxes his teeth.

“ _Jim…_ ”

Zsasz runs his fingers through the blood and semen on the couch, collecting and rubbing it between his fingers. His gaze narrows and his voice grows dark.

“You _still_ haven’t answered me.”

Jim stares at Victor wide-eyed. The changed tone in his voice carries a subtle but clear warning, much like the soft click of the safety being released on a gun. Jim’s brow furrows as he lowers his head; he shrugs and looks away. He hasn’t seen this side of Victor in a long time, not since the day the assassin approached him about Falcone’s hit. Jim wants to ignore the topic altogether, squash it down till it’s gone, but he hasn’t forgotten how angry and frustrated Victor gets when he walks away. A small tremble begins to develop in his legs. Jim swallows and rubs the back of his own neck and softly pleads.

“Victor… _please_.”

 Victor’s jaw tightens and his face hardens. His agitation grows with Jim’s avoidance of his question. He can already feel the muscles in his body growing taut.

He wants to _grab_ Jim.

To _force_ the issue.

It’s then that he notices Jim’s subtle hesitation and changed body language: the soft shudder and small tremble revealing his nervousness.  
  
His anxiety.

His _fear._

Victor can _feel it._

_Smell it._

_That thing_ begins to stir.

Zsasz imagines the hammering pulse beneath his fingers as he tightly grips Jim’s neck.

 

 

His combat knife and karambit just a few steps—mere _moments_ away.

_Jim didn’t bring his Colt tonight. He wasn’t wearing his side holster._

_He doesn’t have as much strength anymore._

_His right arm is injured._

_Just one quick lunge and grab and you’d have both Jim_ **_and_ ** _your blade._

__

 

 _It’d be_ **_so_ ** _easy._

He can already see the look in Jim’s eyes the moment he realizes it’s _too late._

__

 

Just _one_ puncture to his carotid artery—or better yet, his _femoral_.

 _He’d bleed out in_ **_no_ ** _time._

Zsasz’s fingers twitch.  

Just before Victor reaches to grab Jim, he hears Xoch’s voice in his head.  
  
_“_ _Promise me you won’t be a dickhead or pull any boneheaded shit, Victor.”_

He soon recalls the last time she said those words to him, after convincing Tash to let her take him to Gotham General just to see how heavy security was because he _had_ to see Jim.

To find out if he _made_ it.

The memories of that hellish night come flooding back:

Jim’s tumble after being shot.

Jim coughing up blood.

Jim falling limp in his arms.

Jim’s lifeless body and passive mouth.

That excruciating race to get Jim to Gotham General.

The sound of Jim flatlining.

The fucking agony of _not_ knowing Jim’s fate.

 

 

_Zsasz._

**_Don’t._ **

 

 _You_ **_love_ ** _him._

 

**_Remember?_ **

 

****

**__ **

 

Victor realizes _that thing_ took over again: the one that makes (the _real_ ) him(?) take a backseat and helplessly watch on. _That thing_ he can’t help but surrender to because it’s _always_ stronger and _oh so thrilling_ … _That thing_ that makes him _hungry_ and _hot_ and _hard…_ _That thing_ that makes him feel more alive than _anything_ else… that’s helped him survive at the expense of _so many_ others… that _only_ returns to its den once it’s been fed and _only_ settles once its offering has been writ upon his skin.

Zsasz now feels how taut and coiled he’s become: muscles roiling, fists clenching and teeth on edge. He tries to take in a long, deep breath in but it catches as he inhales—his body subtly jerking with it. Victor squeezes his eyes and lips shut, deliberately taking slower, deeper breaths. Eventually, his body softly sways, mirroring the rhythm of his inhalation and exhalation.

Victor _finally_ comes back to himself, dreading the sight that awaits him. Head cast downward, he grits his teeth before slowly, _cautiously_ opening his eyes—first looking to the floor, hoping _not_ to see Jim’s panicked eyes the way he did at the warehouse, or _worse_.

Much, _much_ worse.

_No blood._

His eyes slowly drift outward to the sight of Jim’s feet and ankles.

_He’s still standing in front of you._

Victor’s shoulders gradually slump with relief. He trembles slightly and settles more when he _doesn’t_ hear Jim gasping for breath the way he did when….

Zsasz’s breath finally normalizes but his eyes sting with the horror of the dawning reality.

 

_You almost did it, Zsasz._

_To_ **_Jim_** _._

 

Victor blinks and swallows down the rising bile before slowly dragging a hand down his face and circling back to his conversation with Jim. He tries to imagine how Tash would handle the situation. She’s the most level-headed person he knows.

Zsasz takes a couple of steps back and sucks in a big breath. He holds it for a moment before puffing out a loud sigh. He briefly glances up at Jim and softens his voice, before looking downward again.

“I get not wanting to talk. _I don’t_. _Talk_.”

He squeezes his eyes and lips shut.

“Jim… I hurt people and I _like_ it _. A lot_.”

He takes another breath and swallows, his mouth parched.

“But I don’t wanna… _hurt_ you.”

His voice wavers.

“Especially after _… what happened_.”

Jim returns his gaze to Victor’s, the need for flight from the subject at hand evaporates with the admission. Jim inhales a deep breath as he clasps both hands behind his neck.

 _I would be a complete and utter moron to believe that Victor would never lash out at me in a fit of frustration or anger. I could tell he was close to losing it because I refused to answer his question. As much as I love him, I have to be realistic about this_ **_thing_ ** _we both share and how easily we could potentially hurt each other if provoked_ _._

Jim closes his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts. He nods and releases his grip, returning both arms back to his side. He replies with a firm but gentle tone.

“Victor, I don’t want this one event in our lives to forever change how you treat me. I love when we play rough and I know my limits. But, I get it. I mean, I wasn’t conscious for all the shit that went down after I was shot. I can only guess how bad that night must have been for you, but we _never_ talk about it. And in the light of some details you never mentioned to me…”

Jim looks down at Victor’s healing scars and points at them.

“Like your scarring, I don’t want to alarm you if and when you accidentally hurt me.”

Jim shakes his head and takes a deep breath.

“I just want us to be how we were.”

Victor rubs down his mouth and exhales a ragged breath, overwhelmed by a barrage of complicated emotions. Although reluctant to give any of them voice, he hasn’t forgotten the consequences of remaining silent. He can’t bear the thought of losing Jim. _Not again._ He swallows to shore his resolve.

“Look, Jim. I dunno what the fuck I’m doing.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never… done _this_ before. Stuck around. Wanted to _be_ with someone. _Ever_.” He rubs the back of his head. “Not until you.”

“I’ve never _not_ wanted to hurt someone.

Not until _you_.”

Victor grimaces and his eyes nervously dart around.

“I’ve never felt… like _this_ before. I dunno _how_ to go back. I’ve tried. _Believe me._ I just know that… I want you.” He chokes up. “More than I’ve wanted _anything_. I didn’t know until that night.  When Bullock shot _you…_ instead of _me_. I thought you were _dead_ , Jim. It’s why I couldn’t stop myself from… going after him. Your mom was the one who figured out you were still alive after I already fucked him up.” He swallows and blinks his stinging eyes. “You _flatlined_ after we got you to Gotham General.”

Jim gapes at Zsasz as he admits how much he’s changed over the course of their involvement. Jim had no idea that Victor felt so strongly, at least not to the point of it changing him to the degree it has. A heavy feeling of guilt settles on Jim’s shoulders. He recalls how he constantly pushed Victor away believing the assassin was only obsessing over him. Jim was certain that Victor didn’t feel the same for him. And now hearing Victor suffered as he watched him die at the hospital—Jim lets out a huge breath as his shoulders drop.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through what you did.”

Jim swallows and inhales a small breath before continuing.

“I must confess for most of our relationship I was sure you would have no qualms in taking me out if Oswald had demanded it. I _believed_ I was alone in how I felt about… _us_. That’s the main reason I pulled away, _that_ and I knew I could never do what I must if you stood against me. I’m sorry it took me so long to see that what you feel for me is real.”

Jim beckons Victor over to him with his left arm outstretched.

“Come here, babe.”

Victor swallows and nods, before slowly approaching.

Jim wraps Victor into a warm embrace then pops onto his tiptoes to kiss the top of Victor’s smooth head. Jim nuzzles into his neck and says.

“From now on, I will let you know if you hurt me. I promise.”

Jim tightly closes his eyes as Harvey’s words echo loudly in his head.

_“You know what Gabrielle said is true. And I bet my one good hand that you’ve worried yourself over Victor hurtin’ you again.”_

Jim clutches at Victor, his hands splaying tightly across his back. He inhales a deep breath, his chin quivers at the all too likely prospect of Zsasz’s rage taking over and claiming him in its wake.

Jim can feel Victor’s body finally relaxing under his firm grip; his breaths returning to a normal rhythm. Jim peels his face from Victor’s neck to gaze up at his lover’s face.

Victor gradually eases with Jim’s reassurance and traces the scars on his right shoulder. He looks back up and meets Jim’s eyes, his brow knit with concern and face troubled. He cautiously strokes Jim’s face and gently kisses him.

As Victor presses his lips to Jim’s, he draws the man closer and struggles to push past his nagging worry about _that thing_ of his—fearing the very real possibility of hurting him.

_Or much, **much** worse. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are NEARING THE END!!!
> 
> A bit of insight about this chapter and the final one coming up. This section was WAY lighter than what is posted. Jess and I RP'ed this chapter a couple of times? I think. Well anyways, after we were done, she and I got to discussing how we think these two would REALLY end up which is-->
> 
> D E A D. 
> 
> In "Coping Mechanisms" we wanted to keep that bit of darkness and doubt; to touch on how implausible it is for these two to end up in a "happily ever after" scenario. Victor still has proclivities towards murdering and Jim still has a compulsion to do what he MUST no matter what. Hell, its very evident that Jim is going to keep true to himself and his aspirations. For instance, in the previous chapter he told Victor he took the captain job despite what Victor may feel or think when it comes to this added stress. Then of course this chapter, Victor almost flipped the tables on Jim. I think it's very evident that Zsasz is having a hard time navigating the realm of normality in relationships. He doesn't understand Jim's physical cues and needs when it comes to things that stress the detective out. Instead, Victor gets frustrated and unsure, agitated and angry.
> 
> Jess and I did a mock RP after we discussed all this. The part where Zsasz almost grabs Jim... well...HE GOT JIM. Things went from zero to FUCKING ESCALATED real quick. I thought I saved that RP but I can't find it or I would paste it here. BUT pretty much, Zsasz proceeds to lay the hurt. Jim manages to get free of his clutches but not far. He runs into his bedroom and fumbles with his gun as Victor corners him. Instead of Jim shooting Victor (because he couldn't bring himself to do it), he shoots himself in the head. Then Victor snaps out of his blood lust when he sees Jimbo all dead. He then shoots himself....THE END. LOL I cried but I remember Jess saying she slept like a baby because our characters were dead and she didn't have to think about them anymore. I laid in bed weeping but it was a GREAT feeling. I love dark shit. LOL
> 
> The final chapter is coming up and FINALLY Jess and I can lay this pairing to rest. There's gonna be some revelations and feels. That's all I can say about that.
> 
> I'm doing my best to illustrate the chapters. As I await her to finish her other projects. There was mention of a Zsaszlepot collab... *Eyes Jess wistfully* OOPS I guess I spilled the beans. OH well!
> 
> ~FC
> 
> ______
> 
> _*shakes head at FC, wondering how many readers she scared off spilling the beans about our other RP & snickering*_
> 
> Pretty much what FC said. When we first RPd, FC & I both forgot about Zsasz's self-harm scars so we had to go back and address them. Oh yeah... and that *other* RP? It did escalate quickly and ended _very badly._ Before collabing with Filthy, I primarily wrote Z funny, horny, repressed and/or sentimental (or a combo of the four) because I was piloting him and in complete control of the story. My Zsasz was never as fleshed out as he became during our collabs, but my other stories didn't focus on his killery-ness either. I never explored that aspect of him until Boxcutter  & Safe Word because I didn't have anyone challenging Zsasz/me or putting him/me through f*cking h3ll. *winks at Deya* 
> 
> _What can I say? My fanfic wifey brings that sh!t out in me. *shrugs* I really _did_ sleep like a baby after that crazy RP! *zzzzz* It felt oddly satisfying. :D _
> 
> Still though. I really like our final product for this chapter after all the twists and turns it took during its development. I think it went through more transformation than any of our others. I'm also in total agreement with FC about our upcoming/final chapter. I really like it, too. There are some interesting revelations to which I'm really looking forward. Here's hoping you guys do, too. Thanks for sticking with us, y'all. We're almost there!
> 
> Oh yeah. And I _do_ plan on getting back with FC for a Zsaszlepot collab. I told her I've *gotta* finish my other stories that I started cooking after "Boxcutter", only for her to turn around and seduce me with "Safe Word". They've been sitting there forever and I've really gotta finish them because I've learned I'm incapable of doing more than one thing at a time (and of resisting FC's temptations once we get started). My fanfic wifey's The Devil's Candy, y'all! As I've said repeatedly: just as my Zsasz is powerless to resist her Jim, I am powerless to resist FC's dark  & delectable temptations. 


	29. The Ties That Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor takes Jim home to meet The Girls. Both men make a startling discovery about their past.

—>  <—

At the Griddle House:

Jim and Victor are halfway through their meal when Victor brings up the subject of taking him home to meet “ _the girls_ ”. Jim doesn’t know what to expect with this meeting. He’s only been in their company when Victor was actively trying to kill him in the past and, now recently, when they rescued him _that night_ at the warehouse. Jim agrees, wanting more insight on how the love of his life lives when he’s not out hunting or with him.

Victor’s downright giddy at the thought of bringing Jim home. He doesn’t even try to hide the big, goofy grin on his face during the rest of their dinner or on the drive home. He texts Tasha to give everybody a heads up.

Zsasz nuzzles and bites at Jim’s neck as he opens the door. He nods Jim into the long corridor and wraps his arm around him as they walk in. The moment the door closes, he immediately hears Astrid.

“Vic, I’m doing my French tips! Will you _please_ do my little toes?”

Demaris and Ursula yell at him.

“Victor! You’d _better_ have bought more milk! Everybody knows _you’re the one_ who drank it all!”

Tasha’s greeting is milder.

“Victor, when you have a moment, I need to speak with you.”

Xochitl, who never got the message about Jim coming by, immediately starts in on him. The moment Zsasz hears her, he gives Jim an uneasy glance and strides faster to the lounge where everybody hangs out, mildly concerned about what might spill from her lips.

“Dude! What the FUCK, man? Shouldn’t you still be out bangin’ Waff—.”

Victor and Jim round the corner and run right into her at the periphery of the lounge. Xoch blinks in surprise and stops mid-sentence.

“Oh. Hi… _Detective Gordon_.”

Behind her, The Girls sit on black leather furniture arranged around a black lacquered, glass top table. Astrid lies face up on the couch with her feet dangling over the back of it. Tasha’s beside her. Demaris and Ursula share the loveseat.

Jim takes in the scene of the women in the lounge. He’s about to smile but instead grimaces when he hears _that_ nickname being used. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at the mohawked woman. He quickly gruffs out.

“Hello and that’s _Captain_ _Waff—_ Gordon.”

Jim blushes furiously with the minor slip-up.

_Fuck my life! Fucking Headhunter and now this…_

Jim sighs and resigns himself to always being called _‘Waffles’_ from now till the end of time.

The Girls exchange glances and suppress their chortles. Xoch slowly nods her head and stretches a wry, lopsided smile at Jim as she glances at Zsasz.

“ _Now_ I’m starting to get why this man’s got you _so fuckin’_ **_turnt out_** _, Victor!_ And _not_ just ‘cause of that tight little ass you done went and marked up.”

Victor presses his lips together and sheepishly looks to the side. She turns back to Jim and extends her hand, smiling.

“Nice to _officially_ meet you, _Captain_ Gordon. _Sir._ I’m Xochitl.”

Jim grits his teeth and makes a mental note to kill Headhunter. He extends his hand and greets her with a pained smile. He quickly looks at Victor, who continues to shift uncomfortably from her raunchy comments.

When the lawman returns her gaze, Xoch continues smiling and leans in close to him, whispering.

”And don’t think for a _second_ there’s a single woman here who would hesitate to put you down if you fuck him over, Captain Gordon.”

Jim smiles as he quickly clamps his grip on her hand, preventing her from pulling away. He whispers back, his tone full of venom.

" _Better_ women in your band have tried and _failed._ "

Jim smiles as he releases her.

Tasha immediately stands and strides up to Jim with an outstretched hand, nodding politely. She warmly greets him with a modest smile.

“ _Captain_ Gordon. It’s _good_ to see you again. You look far better than when I saw you last. I’m Tasha.”

Jim nods once and shakes her hand. He hopes her innocuous comment doesn’t upset Victor, considering it was in reference to his dire state after being shot.

“Thanks, I feel better than the last time too.”

Despite the topic he’d rather not discuss, Victor looks on, happy to have Jim _home_ with him and meeting The Girls— _especially_ Tash and, despite the pain in the ass she is, Xoch too.

_Hell, all of them._

Zsasz grins proudly beside Jim. He reaches for the back of his neck and pecks his high taper before taking his forearm and guiding him where everyone else is seated. Victor walks behind the couch up to Astrid’s dangling feet. He shakes his head at her as she hands him her nail polish. The pale brunette lifts her head and waves up at the lawman.

“Hi, Jim. I’m Astrid.” She smiles and briefly holds up a finger. “Just lemme borrow him for _one minute._ He’s _so much_ better at this part than I am.”

Jim smiles and nods his head. He glances over and waves at the other two women, giving them a quick greeting. Despite whatever discomfort it may bring to Victor, Jim wants to extend his gratitude. His expression turns appreciative and his tone sincere.

“I want to thank _you all_ for saving my life and my mother’s. How was it discovered that it was my mother under the hood? I never actually asked Victor about that night; it’s still a raw subject with us but I’m curious.”

Victor grows somewhat uneasy when Jim brings up _that night_. He presses his lips together and shifts his attention to Astrid’s toes as Jim talks to The Girls. He secures her heel with his right hand, while painting with his left. Demaris and Ursula shake their heads and respond together, nodding towards Victor.

“It wasn’t us. Vic texted that Penguin played us and to help you. We had no idea till after.”

Ursula tucks her long straight hair behind an ear and turns to her partner.

“It was all Vic, right Demaris?”

The woman shakes her head and her soft, full curls fall in her face.

“No, Ursula. _Pepper, too_. Remember?” She looks back at Jim.

“We don’t actually _know_ what Pepp told Vic, but we could tell _something_ was up.”

Jim’s face scrunches as he hears the name Pepper.

“ _Ivy_ Pepper?”

All the women all nod in agreement.

“Yeah. Pepper.”

Jim stares back wide-eyed and says more to himself than to everyone in the room.

“ _What_ …”

The women look to Victor (now finishing Astrid’s nails) and notice his left hand. They slowly turn to one other, exchanging wide-eyed glances. Zsasz screws the lid back onto the polish and hands it back to Astrid.

“Pepp told me to take a good look at her.”

He looks to Jim and puffs out a sigh, rubbing the back of his head. He doesn’t like thinking about that night, much less talking about it.

“She uh... wore the same thing she did that weekend we went to her house: jeans and that kinda pink orange shirt…” He looks to The Girls to remember the name of the color. “ _Coral…_ and those canvas shoes.” He nods at Jim. “Remember, when I had to change ‘cause that kid got mac-n-cheese all over me? She got some on her shoe, too.”

Jim sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

“Good thing she wears those all the time.”

Jim furrows his brow and casts his gaze to the floor. He can feel the same fear and despair in the pit of his stomach over all the what-ifs of that night. Vile thoughts that have plagued his mind since coming-to in the hospital. He shakes off the dread that is slowly creeping up his spine and smiles as he adds.

“Harvey told me the story of how Victor got away at the hospital that night. He enjoys telling that tale often. Something about Victor getting tased… _repeatedly_.”

Jim smirks at Victor.

Victor looks to one side while he scrunches his mouth to the opposite side of his face. Almost all the women have noticed Victor’s huge silver ring has been replaced with a band but they try to politely keep their focus on Jim (and _off_ Victor’s left hand).

Xoch, who’s more concerned with giving Victor shit in front of Jim has no clue. She cackles.

“Tased? Hmph! That’s not all! We had to cattle prod _and_ stun gun his ass, too!”

Jim scrunches his face and puckers his lips as a small exclamation exits his lips.

“Ooooo! I’ve been tased a few times in the military, part of training. Never cattle-prodded or stun gunned though.”

Jim notices that the rest of the women are staring at Victor, more precisely, his left hand. He sees the knowing looks and side glances. He pretends to not notice. He comes around the couch and sits on an armrest. A cheese-eating grin manifests on his face as he glances up at Victor.

Xoch walks over to Victor to call him out more in front of Jim, especially when she sees his growing unease. She nudges him.

“Well, I don’t have to tell _you_ that Victor here…”

Zsasz shifts uncomfortably and crosses his arms. _That’s_ when Xoch finally notices the ring. She stops mid sentence. Her eyes widen as she points to it.

“Dude. _What the_ **_fuck_** _… is_ **_that_** _?_ ”

She quickly raises a fist to her mouth and her eyes grow large as saucers.

“Dude! Holy shit! Is that a… a… _a_ _fucking_ **_engagement_ ** _ring?!_ ”

Victor’s face and ears grow hot— _and red_. He presses his lips together, looks down and nods.

“Uh… yeah.”

All the women suddenly go quiet and look to one another in shock for a few moments before eventually shrugging and erupting into laughter. They run to Jim, hug him and offer congratulations. They also surround Victor to check out the ring.

Xoch stares on slack-jawed, occasionally blinking in shock until she finally sees it: the way Victor gazes at Jim with a warm smile or softens whenever Jim looks back or smiles at him—a _far_ cry from the lost and broken man she worried endlessly about and lost sleep over not all that long ago.

_I swear to god I'll kill that pinche cabron Gordon if he so much as..._

She watches Victor more and it finally occurs to her she's _never_ seen him more contented; he's practically beaming. Xoch screws up her face and briefly reconsiders her skepticism of Gordon, even though the entire arrangement worries the absolute _hell_ out of her. _But Zsasz looks so fucking happy._ She finally softens, leans in and nudges him.

“Seriously though. You actually look… _happy_. Not just post-fuck or post-kill happy either but… _really_ happy, Zsasz. I like it. _A lot._ ” She puffs out a snort and elbows him. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone—well, ‘cept Wendy ‘cause we both gotta give ya shit.” She smirks and winks. “Mazel tov, dude.”

Zsasz grabs the back of her neck, coils his arms around her and aggressively kisses her head, rocking her to and fro.

Jim tenses up as the women swarm him. He offers them a sheepish smile as they each envelop him in a hug.

“Uh… thanks. No date, he’s just trying it on for size to see if he still wants to go through with it.”

Xochitl shakes her head and eventually approaches Jim, reaching for his shoulder.

“Well, _Captain_ Gordon, on behalf of Gotham City, I wanna _personally_ thank you for taking _this_ man outta circulation. Thanks to you, the rest of us might _finally_ have a shot at getting laid—“

Tasha immediately forces a hand over Xoch’s mouth and turns to Jim.

“ _Please_ don’t mind her. We’re still trying to get her house trained. We’re very happy for you both.”

She turns to the rest of The Girls and gives them “the look”, nodding them to their quarters. They all begin saying their goodnights to Jim and Victor and head for their rooms.

Jim nods and looks over at Victor who looks a little put off by the comment. He chuckles and nudges him.

“I’ve heard from HH how promiscuous you are. He didn’t believe me when I said I was in a relationship with you.”

Jim then wonders exactly how many sexual partners Victor has had especially hearing that woman confirm his wandering ways. Jim looks away and clears his throat.

_I should probably get myself tested…_

Victor rubs the back of his head and looks to the side—still somewhat embarrassed by the fact he has, as Wendy puts it, been _tamed_.

“I uh...” He puffs out a sigh and nods. “kinda am…” He shakes his head. “I mean... _I was_.”

Jim smiles.

“I guess I must have seemed like a tempting sexual conquest back when we first got together, completely taboo and forbidden. I mean, it was for me in the beginning _—still is_.”

Victor sidles onto the couch beside Jim and pulls him into his lap. He bites his lower lip and slowly shakes his head as he suggestively eyes Jim and growls.

“Yes. you. _did_.”

He nuzzles Jim’s neck, takes his earlobe in his teeth and tugs.

“Still do. And now _Captain Gordon? Mmm...”_

 Jim wraps an arm around Victor’s shoulder. His other hand rubs all along his lover’s chest as he playfully nips at his chin.

“Where’s your room?”

Victor nods his head up the stairs. He leads Jim up to the second floor and down another corridor to his quarters. Once they arrive, Victor turns to Jim, tilts his head and smiles.

“After you.”

Victor’s industrial-style bedroom furniture is made of steel and darkly-stained wood with simple, clean lines. His headboard, chair and ottoman are black leather. To the right of the entryway, his footlocker sits at the foot of his bed with a black comforter and charcoal sheets.

As he walks in behind Jim, he tosses his keys on his dresser, immediately to the right of him. His chair and ottoman are at the far side of the room. Victor’s a tidy guy, so it’s free of clutter, even his closet. There, he neatly organizes his clothes, accessories, boots and weapons. Zsasz smiles as Jim steps inside.

Jim smiles back at Victor as he strolls into his room. Jim takes in the sparsely decorated area and notes that Victor is very much like him in terms of keeping very little personal effects.

He wanders around the room and looks out one of the windows. He admires the view below that looks out to the alley where the single point of entry is. Jim nods and remarks.

“Very strategic.”

Victor puffs out a chuckle and shrugs as he removes his jacket and tosses it over the arm of his leather chair.

“Well, we don’t really get much company, but… ya never know, right? It _is_ Gotham.”

Jim nods and returns his attention to Victor’s room. He finds the room exactly the way he imagined Victor’s bedroom to look.

_Maybe if it was painted all in black with a coffin for a bed… that would totally be realistic too._

Jim smirks as he wanders to Victor’s bed and sits down. Jim chuckles as he says.

“Well, if we ever decided to cohabitate I wouldn’t have to worry about you bringing clutter to the mix. I am, however, kind of a slob as per Headhunter.”

Victor presses his lips together, fighting back a smile as he shakes his head. He arches a brow.

“Ya know, Jim. I was a _little surprised_ at how _lived in_ your place was. I figured an Army guy like you’d be a _lot_ tidier.”

He walks over and sits besides Jim, wrapping an arm around him and kissing his neck.

“Yeah. Wendy likes to keep his uh… what’s he call it? His Feng Shui.” He scrunches his face. “His ‘Zen’? How did _that_ go?”

Jim laughs and says.

“Yup, that… the fung… something or another. He is very meticulous, right down to how his dishes are arranged— _even his fridge_. I never heard the end of it. He didn’t bark too much since I brought him all kind of cash and shiny pretty things to play with.”

Jim scrunches his face and looks deep in thought for a bit.

“How the hell is this place so clean with all those women? I have nothing but female cousins and they are filthy as hell! When Barbara and Lee lived with me there was nothing but hair, clothes, shoes, and make-up everywhere.”

Victor shrugs.

“We keep all the common areas tidy, but everybody does their own thing in their quarters. Tash’s kinda like me. Astrid and Xoch? They’re more laid back. Urs and ‘Maris? They spend lotsa time in each others’ rooms. They’re even _more_ relaxed.” Victor smirks. “Kinda like _you_.”

Jim smirks and changes the subject as he looks around the room.

“I suppose coming to see me is going to be a bit more difficult with a door guard and having to take an elevator. I thought it was time I upscaled my living arrangements especially after my promotion… which reminds me.”

Jim digs into a jacket pocket and produces a set of keys.

“These are to the apartment and elevator. I also put you on the list to enter.”

Victor blinks and stares at the keys. He starts to fidget, growing somewhat anxious with the reminder of how much their relationship is changing and how easily he slipped into urge to harm Jim earlier.

It takes him a moment to respond, recalling Jim’s insistence on keeping their personal and professional lives completely separate.

“Okay. Yeah, uh...” He rubs the back of his neck trying to figure out how to negotiate the arrangement and reciprocate. He looks up and scratches the back of his head and sighs. “I live _and_ run business here. How do you wanna do this?”

Jim chuckles and shakes his head.

“I can see that you’re having a hard time with this but let me go on record. Me giving you the keys _doesn’t_ mean I want you to move in. Also, I don’t expect you to allow me to come crash here whenever I want _either._ So, you can lay that to rest. Victor, this is no different from you coming over to my place like before; but this time, I won’t have Harvey able to sneak up on us like at the other apartment. Oh and… (takes a deep sigh and shakes his head) Harvey called me one night when he was drunk and we were talking about some things. Apparently, he saw us fucking… so yeah. I want to eliminate _that_ ever happening again.”

Victor sighs in relief at Jim’s clarification about the keys, still struggling with the new relationship landscape. He tries not to gloat when he hears about Harvey seeing them fuck. He nods.

“Yeah, sure. Okay.” He presses his lips together. “That’s helpful.” He looks back at Jim with mild embarrassment. He inhales and exhales a big breath. “I’ve never done uh… _this_ before.”

Jim smiles as he reaches out a hand to hold Victor’s cheek in his palm.

“You think you’re the only _‘virgin’_ here? You are my first _male_ lover and now my fiance. I’m trying to navigate the same level of awkwardness as you.”

Victor places his hand over Jim’s and smiles before puffing out a chuckle and shaking his head.

“‘Virgin’ is something I haven’t been in a very long time, but I guess I _am_ , huh?”  

He can feel his face flush. He nuzzles Jim’s neck, takes his earlobe between his front two teeth and and pulls it before tonguing the shell of his ear. He growls.

“So… what exactly did Harvey see?”

Jim moans when Victor’s his hot breath infiltrates deep inside his ear. He pulls back and gives Victor a disbelieving look but chuckles and shakes his head.

“Really? I’m beginning to think you love rubbing our relationship in his face. Well, he didn’t go into too much detail, but he saw us on my recliner. He said he was coming over to talk and got an eyeful of me riding you.”

Jim leans in and softly bites Victor’s lower lip. He then huskily purrs.

“Still one of my favorite places where we fucked. I confess, the thought of Harvey catching us kind of makes me hot.”

Jim slides his hand down to Victor’s crotch as he rubs to and fro, his eyes gazing deeply into Victor’s.

“He drunkenly admitted to getting an eyeful of your cock. I’m sure I heard a hint of jealousy in his voice.”

Jim chuckles as his attention draws down to what his busy hand is doing.

Victor’s body immediately reacts to Jim’s adroit hand. His thighs are already twitching and his hips are moving to meet it, chasing the delicious friction. He raises a brow and sucks his teeth.

“ _Did_ he now? And why would he be _jealous?_ ”

Victor’s eyelids droop and he grinds even harder. He rapidly swells and his breathing accelerates.

Jim smiles up at Victor and unfastens his belt and pants. He slips his hand inside Victor’s boxers and grasps the swelling erection into his left hand. He licks at Victor’s lips and finally responds.

“Because in a way he wishes he was you.”

Jim blinks a couple of times at Victor as he bites his lower lip, his gaze shifting downward to watch his stroking hand.

Victor’s jaw is slack and he finds it challenging to form sentences. Jim’s hand is _incredibly_ distracting.

“Fuck, Jim.” He bites his lower lip as his hips keen forward to meet Jim’s hand. “Maybe I should be the jealous one. He gets to spend all day with you…”

Zsasz looks down, watching himself buck into Jim’s grip before gazing back into the man’s eyes. He groans and lowers to a growl.

“...watching you swagger around Gotham punishing all. those. **_bad_** **_guys_**...”

Jim pushes Victor down onto the bed and climbs on top of him. He slinks down to take Victor into his mouth. He licks all around the head a few times and stops.

“You’re the only one I want to... _punish.”_

Jim grabs Victor’s waistbands and yanks them down as he growls. He gets them past his buttcheeks and does his best to flip the heavy assassin over onto his stomach. He smiles at his playfully resistant lover who merely rolls onto his side.

Jim’s words usher Victor’s loud groan and a twitching cock. He reaches to yank off his sweater to oblige Jim before rolling over. He looks back at Jim over a shoulder, bites his lower lip and raises a brow.

“Are you implying I need _p u n i s h m e n t_ , Captain Gordon?”

Jim scrambles over Victor and tents himself above him, supporting himself on his left hand while his right hand unfastens his pants. He quickly unleashes his own hardened cock, giving himself a few firm strokes as he eyes all along Victor’s back. He begins sliding himself, tip first, up and down Victor’s ass cheeks. He growls.

“Oh yes… the _special_ sort of punishment only _I_ can give you.”

Jim looks around to Victor’s bedside and raises an eyebrow as his hips continue thrusting against the pale white glutes.

“Not to dispel the moment but do you have lube?”

Jim slides his dick up and down the presented ass crack as he waits for Victor to answer.

Victor tilts his hips back to meet Jim’s prodding length and groans at the thought of his implied punishment, rutting into the bed. He shakes his head, chuckles and reaches over and into his nightstand. Before handing Jim the bottle, Victor tilts to the side and looks wryly over his shoulder.

“Not to dispel the moment, but the _last_ time you gave me that _‘special sort of punishment’_ , ya skipped out on me.”

Jim leans down and lays his weight on Victor’s back to bite at his neck. He gives him a few playful nips before purring into his ear.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jim tongues just inside of his ear then adds. “Think I’m just going to put a ring on your finger and disappear?”

Victor twitches with Jim’s hot breath and tongue, tilting his hips higher. His glutes and thighs tighten with anticipation. He shakes his head and hands back the bottle.

“Better not.”

Jim opens the bottle and lubes up his fingers. He slips his tongue into Victor’s ear as his hand travels down in between his cheeks. He glides the digits up and down Victor’s crack and lightly fingers around the tight hole. He hisses when he feels Victor’s muscles quiver.

“ _Nothing_ is going to tear me away from you and this _magnificent_ ass of yours.”

Jim slides down to get an eyeful of what his fingers are about to do. He loves watching as much as feeling Victor’s body taking him in. Jim’s erection already bouncing at the promise of what’s to come.

Victor’s breathing accelerates and thighs twitch in response to the teasing digits. He moans as he tilts his hips to meet them.

“Shit, Jim.”

Jim moans when Victor offers himself by making it easier to access his taut swelter. He slips his right hand under and in between Victor’s legs to his erection. He grasps the throbbing shaft firmly as he whispers.

“Thrust into my hand as I loosen you, baby.”

Jim bites at Victor’s right ass cheek and slowly fingers around his hole a few times before slipping a pinky in.

Victor craves more of Jim’s teasing fingers, only to feel the man take his aching length in hand. Jim’s words and mouth spur him to rut with greater urgency, soon surrendering to the natural rhythm of his hips. His muscles tighten and roil.

Jim looks up to watch Victor thrusting and working himself into his hand. Jim admires Victor’s well-defined backside and shoulders as his muscles shift and roll with each movement. He can never get enough of Victor’s powerful form; every inch of the assassin is taut, smooth and hard. Although he loves plowing into Victor when given the chance, he’d still rather ride him. He can never get enough of the man’s strength, especially when he uses it to dominate him, pinning him underneath to have his way. Jim’s erection jolts and aches. He moans with memories of Victor fucking him hard, practically grinding him into the couch cushions.

Jim quickly dives onto the left buttcheek and bites it firmly as he softly sucks on the ample flesh. His index finger replaces the pinky as he plunges it deep inside. He stirs slowly as he sucks more viciously on the plump cheek.

Victor moans with Jim’s slick hand, his exploring finger and _those_ **_fucking_ ** _teeth_ on his ass _._

“Jim… _fuck_.”

His hamstrings and quads tighten with the additional sensation. He pumps harder, chasing the alternating sensations in front and behind.

Jim lets off the now red and bright asscheek, sporting very well-defined teeth marks. He smirks at his work, but shifts his attention below as he inserts a second finger. He groans when he feels Victor’s muscles take him in, clenching and swallowing tightly. Jim’s erection throbs and aches to dive in. He maneuvers to where he is over Victor’s right leg and glides his glistening cock up and down Victor’s thigh. He chuckles when he feels his right hand coated thickly with Victor’s precum; his lover’s body working frantically into his palm. Jim does his best to keep himself supported, but shifts his weight onto his left elbow while still maintaining contact with his own erection, gliding it up and down on Victor's legs.

Jim then inserts another finger, keeping a nice slow rhythm.

Victor’s already heady and lost between Jim’s probing fingers and his slick, tight grip around his dick. He groans and pumps with increased urgency as Jim prods himself against him, leaving that faint, thin trail on his leg. The heat and pressure gathers deep in his balls, soon spreading down his thighs. He frantically thrusts into Jim’s hand.

Jim watches Victor’s tells and growls out.

“Gonna burst soon, baby? I want you to cum. I want you to make a _mess_ of yourself.”

Jim begins swirling his fingers faster and deeper into Victor as his right hand grasps a bit tighter onto the large pulsing erection.

Victor groans loudly with Jim’s words, his _voice… that fucking growl_ … only to feel Jim’s grip tighten around his cockhead and those _fucking fingers_.

“Jim…”

He pumps harder into Jim’s hand and adjusts his hips, guiding Jim to _that_ spot. He gasps.

"Right... _there.”_

His muscles tighten more and he starts clawing at his comforter. Victor can feel his hips, thighs and legs follow suit, all the way down to his curling toes.

“Oh fuck…”

Jim can feel Victor is about to blow. He slips his fingers in and out as he licks all over his ass and dives in to lick at his ballsack. Tickling him with the tip of his tongue in quick, vigorous wiggles. His fingers then sink in deeper as he barks.

“That’s it … give it to me!”

All Victor’s muscles begin seizing. The heat flashes behind his balls announcing his pending burst. Jim’s flicking tongue at his taint, his fingers and words push him over. He cums _hard_.

“JIIIMM!!!! OOOHH _FUCK_ ME!!! SHIIIITT!”

His body is racked by paroxysms. Jim’s fingers at his p-spot stretch his orgasm even longer.

Jim quickly slips out his fingers and releases his hand from Victor’s erection. He comes in, lining himself up to Victor’s hole, hungry and wanting to feel those deep spasms on his dick. He lubes and dives into Victor’s body. He gasps when he feels Victor’s clenching muscles as his body greedily swallows him in. Jim shudders as he groans.

“Fuck baby! _God damn!_ ”

He comes down and wraps his left arm around Victor’s neck. His mouth opens to bite along pale white shoulders as his hips slap loudly against his lover’s eagerly offered ass.

Victor’s still riding out his orgasm and chasing Jim’s fingers, only to find them replaced with his throbbing dick. Despite the twitching in his thighs and hips, he relaxes the best he can to accommodate Jim’s girth, shamelessly positioning himself and moaning with the man’s teeth on his shoulders.

Jim’s body is soon pumping into Victor wantonly. His grunts loud; his breaths short and fast as he thrusts deep and vigorously into Victor. His cock harder than it’s ever been before. He grinds down, eager to prod further in and fill him with cum. He slips his tongue into his ear and groans out.

“Why would I ever fucking walk away from this _fucking_ perfect piece of ass?”

Jim can feel the flash of heat at his cock and his balls begin to tighten. He growls out as he pounds relentlessly into those tight muscles.

“FUCK YESSS!”

Jim can feel the pending burst and quickly slips his cock out and sprays his cum all over Victor’s back. He groans with satisfaction at the mess he’s made as he pumps the last drops with his hand; his body quivering with delight. Jim smears his cum all over Victor’s ass and lower back before he comes down to lie on top. He lets out a deep sigh and nuzzles into his ear.

“Damn… I can never last long inside you.”

Victor pecks at Jim’s forearm, smiling back at the sexy man atop him.

Jim leans in and plants a kiss on Victor’s temple. He slowly gets up and looks down at the mess all over his shirt and pants.

“Well, looks like I might have to wear something of yours. I ruined my clothes with that little stunt.”

Jim chuckles as he jumps out of the bed, stripping his ruined clothes off. He promptly makes his way to Victor’s bathroom to do a quick clean up.

Victor rolls to the side and appreciatively arches a brow at the sight of Jim strutting off.

“Sure ya don’t wanna parade around naked? Personally, I prefer you that way. Help yourself to anything you want of mine.”

Jim laughs and hollers over the running water.

“I’m not quite _there yet_ —walking around nude.”

Zsasz shakes his head and rubs his lips, lecherously chuckling.

“Too bad. You could _totally_ pull it off.”

Jim saunters out after a few minutes and grins at Victor as he makes his way towards the man’s closet.

Victor watches on, suddenly remembering Jim’s t-shirt in his footlocker.

“Oh, wait. I still have that shirt of yours I borrowed at your mom’s. I accidentally brought it home with my clothes we washed.”

Jim smirks and shakes his head as he turns to eye Victor.

“Wait, my Friday the 13th shirt? Yeah, let me wear that with one of your boxers.”

Jim grins wide as he sucks his teeth in mock annoyance. He turns and opens Victor’s closet. Jim is amazed by the organization of the clothes that line up by style, thickness and color.

 _Victor and Headhunter should go into the closet organization business_ _. I_ **_am_ ** _a slob._

Victor places a hand on his chest and feigns hurt.

“What’s the matter, _Captain_ Gordon? My shirts _not good enough_ for you?”

He chuckles as he rises and walks up to Jim who’s actively perusing his closet. Victor smacks his scrumptious ass and plants an aggressive kiss at the nape of his neck before he grabs his keys. He strides to his footlocker, unlocks it and grabs the shirt. Before he realizes it, his childhood baseball falls from it.

Jim is busy looking at Victor’s clothes when he hears the sound of something hard falling and rolling towards him. He looks down and smiles as the ball hits his heel and comes to a dead stop.

Jim reaches down and grabs the ball, holding it out towards Victor. He beams him a smile.

“I would have _never_ figured you for a baseball fan…”

Jim stops dead in his tracks; he looks into Victor’s eyes. The same recurring déjà vu he’s had over and over the last few months finally hits him hard. He’s struck with a memory, something so deep and profound it covers his body in goosebumps. His other hand absently goes to his forehead as he stutters.

“Uuuuh, W… W… Wait… wait… this. This… feels _familiar_.”

His blue eyes widen as he stares at Victor. He quickly looks at the ball and sees there is an inscription on it. He walks towards the bed as he stares at the words. He clears his throat and reads the autograph out loud as he sits down.

 

_To Peter_

_Thanks for coming to my first Gotham game._

_Arod._

 

Jim shakes his head, his breaths short. Tears quickly well in his eyes as he looks up at Victor.

“This ball… my father and I went to Angel Rodriguez’s first major game with the Gotham Jays. He was traded to Gotham after playing for another team for years. We went to support him and cheer him on. He gave this ball to my dad after the game was over. He was my dad’s best friend. Victor… _how did you get this ball?_ ”

Victor tilts his head at Jim’s consternation and surprise. He ambles up and sits beside him, shaking his head and shrugging.

“Some kid gave it to me the day I went to go live with Don Falcone…”

Zsasz scrunches his mouth to one side and rubs beneath his lower lip with the knuckle of his thumb. He briefly looks away because he doesn’t really like remembering anything from that time.

Jim interrupts Victor and starts talking, his voice distant and haunted.

“My father told me he had to meet up with a friend before we went to pick up my mom for dinner. We stopped at Gotham Central Park; he parked behind a black Fairlane. I know because my father said he loved those kind of cars. He and the man were talking away from where we parked; I got out so I could toss the ball. I thought I heard someone crying in the black Fairlane. I walked over and saw a small boy, all in black with large dark eyes. I always remembered his eyes. They were big and full of tears but when he realized I was there, he toughened up and stopped. I felt sad for him. No kid should be alone and crying. I reached in with my baseball mitt and offered this ball to him. He seemed hesitant to take it but he did. He said something I couldn’t understand. Then my dad called me over before I could say anything to the boy.”

Jim shakes his head as he gawks at Victor.

“Was that…?”

Jim sucks in a large breath and holds it as his gaze holds steady on Victor. Jim’s brow crinkles when he _sees_ _it_. The same pale skin, the same dark tear-filled eyes… the quivering chin trying to stiffen. His mind immediately places Victor and the little boy in the same place in time— _the backseat of the Fairlane_.

Jim’s eyes widen when it finally hits him, the reason he’s always been so entranced with Victor’s dark eyes. Every moment, even before they became involved, Jim has found himself caught in those eyes. Back when Victor was actively hunting him for Carmine or detained via Mario’s instructions, Jim could feel something on a deep subconscious level. A faint glimmer of familiarity; it’s always kept him from doling out death and judgement to the dutiful assassin.

Zsasz listens, dazed. As Jim talks, he finds himself immediately transported to the backseat of Don Falcone’s ’62 Fairlane 500 coupe, working hard to keep a stiff upper lip and not show any fear, because of what happens to “pussies” and “sissies”. When he feels his eyes begin to pool, he squares his body and instinctively rubs his mouth with a fist, trying to “man up” again.

He takes a breath, attempting to clear his head and settle himself. He is, after all, with Jim (who _really_ knows _who_ and _what_ he is, but loves him despite it). Only then does Victor slowly begin putting the pieces together.

He remembers the time he asked Don Falcone about the treasured switchblade he always carried. The old man puffed out a sigh and stretched a sad smile as he fingered it. His gaze and voice grew distant.

_“The last honest man in Gotham gave it to me. He said, ‘A knife is a good friend when you have no other’.”_

It was the first time Victor _really saw_ the man behind the legend. It was also the first time he heard one of Don Falcone’s wistful remembrances of the sainted Peter Gordon…

_Jim’s father._

Victor blinks with the realization.

He suddenly remembers peering up at the older kid who smiled at him as he slid his mitt through the back window. He recalls looking up into _those eyes_ … _so kind_ … _so blue…_

 _Jim_.

Victor shakes his head and rubs down his mouth in astonishment. The instant Zsasz peers back into Jim’s eyes, he _finally_ recognizes _those eyes_ outside Don Falcone’s car:  _The very same eyes he couldn’t stop looking into at the deli… on the rooftop… in the sedan… in that garage. The ones he was delighted to wake up to that first morning in Jim’s apartment… that glint up at him in the red booth at the Griddle House. The ones he couldn’t stop gazing into at Jim’s mom’s when they did dishes or when Jim barbecued on the grill… that felt like coming home that night in the woods… that he was so fucking grateful to see again when he last woke at Jim’s old apartment…_ _that took his breath away_ _under the spotlight..._

 _The very same eyes he peered up into in the backseat of his ‘67–that made him first realize he not only_ **_could_ ** _love but actually_ **_did_** _._

He reaches for Jim’s face, stunned.

“That was… _you._ ”

Jim’s strength falters and he wraps his arms around Victor. He nods his head unable to form words. He pulls back from the tight embrace and kisses Victor.

Victor wraps Jim in his arms as they kiss, his stinging eyes soon watering. He pulls back a little and shakes his head, working to steady his voice.

“Remember when I told you I was _different_ when I was a kid?”

Jim nods.

“Yeah, I remember.”

Victor shifts uncomfortably, resisting the urge to clam up. He takes a breath and presses on.

“Don Falcone knew my family… my _father_. He became my legal guardian after I spent time in foster care. My bubbie couldn't take care of me when my parents died ‘cause my zayde was really sick back then.” Victor’s eyes dart around. “He found out some shit happened to me.”

Victor grits his teeth and shakes his head, trying not to think about that asshole. He rubs his mouth, sniffs and looks away.

“ _Anyway_ , he got me outta there. I guess your father helped him with that.” He caresses the man’s face. “Jim, Don Falcone had a _lotta_ respect for your father. He talked about him all the time.”

He swallows and hesitates, nodding towards the ball.

“I remember you givin' me that.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t know what to think. I mean… what you’d do to me if I took it… or even if I _didn’t_.” He grits his teeth. “I was scared to but…   _your eyes,_ Jim. They were… _kind._ So I did.” He shrugs and wipes below his nose. “I think it’s why I kept it. I’m forever grateful to Don Falcone gettin' me outta there, but I don’t have lotsa good memories from then… ‘cept _you…_ _and that ball_.”

Jim rests his head on Victor’s shoulder. He takes a deep breath in and says.

“You had hair back then.”

Victor puffs out a chuckle and rubs his bald head.

“I _did_ , didn’t I? Cute little curly brown locks.”

Jim smiles when he pictures Victor with those soft dark curls. He somberly continues as his voice breaks ever so slightly.

“That was also the year my father died; it happened not long after that day. I blocked a lot of that time period from my memories.”

Jim looks up into Victor’s eyes and asks.

“What did you say to me, that day in the car? I didn’t understand you. Were you speaking Hebrew?”

“I don’t remember exactly, but I thanked you. ‘A dank’ or ‘a sheynem dank’ maybe? It’s Yiddish.” Victor shrugs and briefly looks down before returning his gaze. “I couldn’t believe you gave it to me. That you did it… just to be _nice_.”

Jim reaches up and caresses Victor’s face.

“I never believed in fate or destiny or anything like that. I’m a realist, only concerned with the hard facts. I’m not religious or spiritual but for some reason when I’m with you… I feel like _you_ are where I need to be. I had déjà vu moments that seemed to get stronger and stronger the longer I was with you. I know it sounds _crazy_ but I feel tied to you.”

Victor places his hand over Jim’s, his disposition settling with the man’s touch and words.

“I’m not either, Jim. _Religious_. My parents were. _Very_. My bubbie, too. Even Don Falcone. I don’t feel very tied to my roots or to any of that but...  I feel _very_ tied to you.”

Victor looks deeply into Jim’s eyes. His earlier disquiet and trepidation allays when he _finally_ comprehends the enormity of their connection. At that moment, he nods with determination, reaches for Jim’s neck and presses a kiss to his head.

Victor rises to return to his footlocker. He locates the chest with his family’s heirlooms and retrieves the prayer shawl Mrs. Gordon knitted for his bubbie. Within it, he finds his parents’ wedding bands and returns to Jim with his father’s in hand. Victor grits his teeth and peers down at it.

“I didn’t think you were gonna make it when we took you to Gotham General.”

He chokes up, recalling the events of _that night_.

“Your mom told me to talk to you. To uh… ‘give you a reason to hang on’.” His eyes pool as he looks down at the ring and breathlessly presses on. “You were _dying_ , Jim. I said things to you I was too scared to say before. It was when I first told you I loved you.” He clenches his jaw and swallows. He apologetically looks up and softly shakes his head. “I tried the last time we were together… before you went after Penguin but… _I couldn’t_.”

He takes Jim’s left hand.

“I never thought I could… _love_ anyone but… you proved me wrong.”

He slips his father’s ring on Jim’s finger.

“I love you, James Gordon.”

Jim watches as the ring slips past his last knuckle and sits comfortably at the base of his ring finger. His eyes glance up at Victor as a huge smile spreads across his face. He wraps his arms around Victor’s shoulders with the baseball still clutched in his right hand. He presses his mouth firmly to Victor’s sweet lips, his tongue slipping in to meet Victor’s as his embrace grows tighter. He utters between kisses.

“I found you and I’m never letting you go.”

Jim pulls back, taking Victor’s left hand in his own left hand and intertwines their fingers. He watches as their ring fingers line up, the bands sparkling in the bedroom lights.

“There were so many instances where we could have been ripped from each other and we would have never known our connection. Yet here we are together—at last.” Jim kisses Victor’s left hand. “I would burn all of Gotham down just for you.”

Victor reaches behind Jim’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. His smile stretches impossibly wide.

“Aww, babe. You’d burn down _all_ of Gotham _just for me?_ ”

He arches a brow.

“Might wanna be careful with that kinda talk, _Captain_ Gordon. You’re startin' to sound like _me_.”

Victor presses his lips to Jim’s. It isn’t long before he hears Xoch singing a very, _very_ familiar tune from downstairs.

 

 _“Hava nagila_  
_Hava nagila_  
_Hava nagila_  
_Venis mecha…”_

 

He softly chuckles into Jim’s mouth as the rest of The Girls join in. He stretches a wide, toothy grin and stands, extending a hand to his betrothed.

“C’mon, babe. They’re singin’ our song.”

Jim takes Victor’s hand; he stands as he scrunches his face in confusion. He finally hears the high-pitched shrills. Badly pitched voices sing along between shrieks of laughter.

Jim beams Victor a large smile as his fiancé spins him around. Jim wraps his arms around Victor’s waist and smirks.

“Oh, this is _our_ song?”

Victor pulls Jim closer and smiles.

“You know what I mean, babe.”

He presses his forehead to Jim’s, eyes twinkling.

“Guess we’re gonna have to work on pickin’ one out, huh?”

Jim raises an eyebrow and remarks inquisitively.

“You mean something for our first dance at our _wedding_ _?_ ”

Jim bites his lower lip and looks upon Victor. His expression soft; his eyes searching his face for any of the earlier apprehension.

Victor reaches behind Jim’s neck and kisses him before flashing a wide, toothy grin.

“Well _yeah_ , babe. What else would I be talking about?”

Jim can feel his eyes begin to water as his face brightens into a large smile. He chuckles as his embrace tightens. The men hear the women continue their singing as one exclaims loudly.

“Yo! Wendy! _Dude!_ You’re _never_ gonna believe this shit!”

 

The End

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys! All the feels! 
> 
> Talk about a chapter with everything: awkward social situations, meeting The Girls, Jim finally getting a glimpse of Victor’s “real” life, sexy time and of course, the “big reveal” ( _*cue the dramatic music*_ ) and the hopefulness of the ending. 
> 
> TBH, I can’t remember when FC wanted to add Jim and Victor’s very first encounter as part of the story (of course, this was Deya's baby so... *points to FC*...we gotta ask her). I had to backfill the ball into Victor’s footlocker (in chapter 1) and FC had to go back and sprinkle those déjà vu moments for Jim. By that point, I'd only written Victor adding Jim’s t-shirt (from Boxcutter chapter 20) to Zsasz’s beloved keepsakes after my first draft of Victor’s POV in that chapter. Deya later had me wrap the ball inside it. _(Sheesh. I’m gettin’ all verklempt over here just thinking about that chapter as I type this. OHY!)_
> 
> We had a recent text convo about how emotional we were both getting, having reached the final chapter and concluding our GorZsasz series. She was developing her fan-phuccing-TAStic final chapter art and I was just doing a final comb through and edit of this last chapter (in particular: the part Victor relives being a kid in the backseat of Don Falcone’s car and finally putting all the pieces together. It's also what Deya’s art just so happened to be all about. *shrugs* _In sync much? Yeah. We told you. Go back and read those endnotes for “Road to Recovery”_ ). 
> 
> I _really love_ this little gem in the story after all the absolute h3ll Jim and Victor respectively endured. I can't speak for FC, but having piloted my precious Zsaszy and written his POV, I personally, _acutely_ felt all his pain. I dunno about y'all, but I really f*cking needed this, ‘cause this story put me through abso-f*cking-lute h3ll. I sh!t thee not. (I dunno how many damb boxes of Puffs with Lotion™ FC put me through!)
> 
> But, in all seriousness, this story was some damb good sh!t. I told y’all my fanfic wifey’s a phuccing genius. }8> -o- Jess 
> 
> _*Jess nervously tries to figure out how she's gonna go back to real life: finishing her outstanding WIPs all solo since she's not gonna have her fanfic wifey forcing her to spice things up and get outside her comfort zone*_
> 
>  
> 
> ___________
> 
>  
> 
> This final chapter had many ideas that were never implemented. At first Jess and I wanted to end this on the porny side. Because HELLO...that's what Boxcutter was all about. We had concocted some crazy orgy with Zsasz and Jim and The Girls. Again, we have ideas but as we progress through the content, attitudes and ideas change. A lot of what we intend on adding just never make past the first stage.
> 
> Ah yes, the VERY FIRST encounter between these two men! I think I came up with that three quarters of the way through the story. I find it completely plausible that kid Jim and kid Zsasz could have crossed paths in this little AU Jess and I dreamt up. Both of their fathers were close to Carmine. also as the story progressed I was inspired by weird coincidences between me and Jess. Just little things we will mention to each other and, lo and behold, the other was feeling or experiencing something similiar. IN SYNCH MUCH? So that inspired me to go back and add these little deja vu moments on Jim's end. 
> 
> I also think some of this was inspired by the rape chapter... Victor remembering his own helplessness at the hands of another. I always loved the idea that Carmine Falcone takes a very young Zsasz under his wing and molds him into the man he is now. Also a lot of the trauma he experienced as a child adds a subtext throughout the story pointing towards Victor's mental state. So that being said, I couldn't help but convince Jess that Carmine Falcone, an altruistic mafia boss, would take in the child of a dead friend. AND who better to help him with legal guardianship paperwork than Peter Gordon?
> 
> I love the angst in "Coping Mechanisms" It really set the tone and contrast for this chapter. All of Victor's worries and apprehension disappearing with the realization of the magnitude of his connection to Jim and the Gordon family. 
> 
> ~FC
> 
>  
> 
> _Right! How could I forget (especially after FC imagined Xoch waiting eagerly for a shot at Jim sportin’ a strap-on! :D)?! However, I figured there was no way The Girls would be down with such a thing anymore after seeing Z lose his sh!t over Jim in such an epic way. Gotta say tho, FC’s final Safe Word payoff?! :3 <3 Perfection! }8> _
> 
>  

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe our last installment in our “The Dick-n-the Ass” series is _really_ complete. Recall I only planned on acting in a supportive role and/or Zsasz “consultant” to Deya for ‘Safe Word’. I had no plans to act in any greater capacity. So… 140K-ish words later? LOL! _I shoulda known. It’s impossible for me to say no to my fanfic wifey. I’m a total fanfic slut for her. She got me all turnt out like Jim has Victor. (I guess life really does imitate art.) ;’p_
> 
> On one hand, I’m thrilled to be completing Jim and Victor’s story. I’m proud of what we accomplished and I had such an amazing time doing it. We put a lotta of work into this labor of love.
> 
> On the other hand, I’m so sad it’s over. It’s bittersweet. I had a blast workin’ with the evil genius that is Filthy. I plumbed some serious emotional depths—not just physical (okay _sexual_ ) ones. :D I can’t tell you how amazing it’s been working with FC.
> 
> Despite all our fun and sexy time, the best part of this project hands down was Deya. Period. End of story. It was her Fraszlepot art that inspired me to write my first smutty fanfic, “To The Victors”. Who knew falling in love with her aMAzing art would be the start of a super great collab and an even more amazing friendship?
> 
> Not only does she have h3lla mad crazy skills, she’s funny and hot and sassy as f*ck—an overall amazing human being and _incredible_ friend. She means the absolute world to me. I love her like a sister. While I’m proud of our beautiful, unholy union, it pales in comparison to all the f*cking love, joy, laughter, friendship, affection (and sh!t-giving) Filthy’s provided me. Who knew my dirty-mindedness would have such a profound and meaningful payoff?! My life is so much richer with FC in it.
> 
> Deya. You’re a bad-&ss b!tch and I love the f*ck outta you, sistah. You _really are_ the wind beneath my wings and sh!t.
> 
> And last but not least: to all y’all who read and took this GorZsasz crackship journey with us? _THANK YOU!!! :3_ Your reading, kudos, comments and encouragement have been so phuccing lovely. Y’all are the best! 
> 
> FC and I plan to collab in the future. I hope y’all take another chance on us when that happens! In the meantime: love, peace and chicken grease, y’all! (Or veggie grease if that’s yo jam.)
> 
> <3 }8> -o- Jess
> 
> ______
> 
> What can I say? Jessica made the entire journey one hell of a ride. She took a chance on me and took me under her wing. She helped me improve my writing skills, improve my vocabulary, and find my present tense voice.
> 
> But all that is just bonus goodies. The real treasure is having someone I can bug with art, musings and harass when I’m drunk. She’s there when I have bad days and I have had some ridiculous mind melting bad days. I cherish her presence, her perspective, and her enthusiastic support. 
> 
> This woman… OH GOOD LAWRD! She is a fucking pistol! Her gregarious ass always has me rolling! Also it’s rare to find someone who just GETS you… seriously I don’t run across that often in my life.
> 
> So it’s no wonder that throughout the collaboration journey we ‘effing clicked like gangbusters! I’m grateful that I put aside my apprehension and introverted ways to open my life to someone like her. I lucked out and found a precious gem! LOVE YOU MAMA! <3
> 
> Lastly, I want to express my joy and gratitude to the readers that stuck with us through the entire series. The kudos are cool but the comments are what make the whole damn thing PURE JOY! 
> 
> I must say, I’ve been writing fanfics for a LONG time. Extremely LONG time...back before the internet! Transformers G1 was my springing platform. Yeah… I’m old.
> 
> After everything I’ve written/illustrated this is by far my favorite work yet. And yeah, there’s a mixture of emotions I’m feeling over this conclusion. I’m elated that I had this great experience with a crackship pairing. I’m also dying in the inside that it’s over… And now I can never see Jim Gordon with anyone but Victor Zsasz! T.T 
> 
> Yes, there are plans for another collab. We plan to venture into a Zsaszlepot after a brief hiatus (Seriously, I need time away to get over Jim Gordon).
> 
> Till next time…
> 
> ~FC


End file.
